Son of Thanos
by Kiterou
Summary: Peter Quill was not the only terran boy that got kidnapped from Earth - 14 years after Yondu Udonta and his Ravagers took Peter, another band of bandits came to collect some profits of their own. They touch down in Britain, Surrey. Thirteen years later, Harry unknowingly returns home, chasing a man bend to destroy the star Sol. WILL NOT BE UPDATED ON ANYMORE - ONLY ON AO3
1. Spaceman

**Summary**

Peter Quill was not the only Terran boy that got kidnapped from Earth - 14 years after Yondu Udonta and his Ravagers took Peter, another band of bandits came to collect some profits of their own. They touch down in Britain and six little boys and girls were never to be seen again.

Thirteen years later, the seventh of the taken kids comes back, chasing a man bend to destroy the star Sol. Little did Harry know that he finally found his way home.

 **Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor anything from Marvel.**

* * *

 **AN: All events in the HP book series will be moved forward 17 years, with Harry being born in 1997 and Voldemorts first death in Halloween 1998.**

The events of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 will happen in the year 2015, roughly the same time Age of Ultron happens on earth.

Every other previous MCU movie will be mostly untouched. Harry will return to earth shortly after the events of AoU, which will trigger the beginnings of the AU.

 **There will be no bashing**.

There will be a pairing in the future for Harry. I have three candidates from each Fandom which whom Harry could hit it off, but I am not quite sure who the lucky girl/guy will be. I will tag it properly when I decide.

Spaceman - The Killers

* * *

 **February 19th, 2002  
** Little Whinging, Surrey, England

Almost no-one took notice of the flying vessel that slowly descended over the small suburb. It was already dark despite the small, yellowish street lights and the illuminated windows of the neat, cookie-cut houses of Little Whinging. The vessel was partly cloaked, but even without it, it would have been only barely noticeable with its dark hull, metal too rough to reflect much light. It was rather bulky and beaten, and one would wonder how it was still able to maintain flight, let alone cross the distance between it's home and this little backwater planet. Of course, nobody in Little Whinging would know where the vessel came from. They didn't even know it was there.

The group of bandits manning the vessel were just as ragged and rough as their spaceship. Poverty struck as hard outside of earth as it did on the planet itself, but one of the bandits once belonged to another group named the Ravagers. He had been long enough part of them to still know the way to this backwater planet full of _humans_. Far enough away from Xandar and its ever watchful eyes to make some decent money. They said that The Collector wanted a human ever since meeting young Peter Quill, Yondus Boy. So they followed the dusty memories of the ex-Ravager through unmapped space and found Sol and the beautiful gem called Earth. There were always some younglings out in the dark. From London they took a couple of runaways, a girl and her little brother. Their parents would fall into despair afterwards, the loss too hard to cope with. From Wales, they took a toddler out of his cradle and burned the house down. From Hastings they took an older girl with beautiful blonde curls - she couldn't sleep and was only catching a bit of fresh air in the garden when they came, and her father, who raised her all alone, took his life two years later when the police thought her dead in a mass grave found only a couple of kilometres away, next to the house of a killer. He had murdered the man before he committed suicide.

In Surrey, they hit the jackpot - three young lads, the youngest five years old. Enough to fill the rest of the cages and not to worry about money for the next couple of standard months. Easily enough for whores and booze and new weapons and maybe a bit of a fresh up for the ship. Who knew - they said The Collector always paid well. It was enough, and they ascended back into the endless skies. Two pairs of parents would howl and cry later that night. One aunt and one uncle, however, would be glad.

And up in Scotland, an old man would start to worry.

* * *

 **March 8th, 2002**

Far away, Unmapped Space

The younglings dealt with their captivity very differently. The girl and her brother from London mostly cried the first week, until the girl decided to be strong for the small boy. They had been put into the same cage after a quick test showed that they were "from the same stock", with the same nose, the same hazel eyes, the same straight, black hair. She was two years his senior, and after her descision she tried not to show her own very real fear whenever one of the bandits came to feed the prisoners. They would always try to get some fun out of them, banging against the bars of their cages and laughing mockingly. She would try to shield her brother, taking the brunt of the spit and the occasional hit and pinch, and sooth her brother afterwards, making sure he got most of the food offered to them. Her name was Laura, and her brother's name was Michael.

She made friends with the blonde girl with green eyes like spring leaves. Mostly because the oldest girl had been made to care for the toddler, the youngest of the seven. Her cage was right next to theirs, and they would softly talk to each other when no bandit was nearby, changing stories of their respective homes and their family. She was not as fearless as Laura pretended to be, flinching badly when they came, but she quickly came to deeply care for the little boy in her arms. She was twelve, she said, and tried her best not to cry. On the fifth day, one of the bandits hurt her leg pretty badly, and still, she tried. Her name was Rose.

The three boys from Little Whinging, Surrey, were the most diverse. The oldest was seven, a gangly child with dirty blonde hair and a smatter of freckles on his cheeks and his nose. His name was Robin, and his younger brother, Malcolm, looked little different. They both were sometimes very loud, and sometimes very afraid. When the bandits came, they would huddle as far away from the pathway as possible, trying to hide in the shadows. When the bandits were away, they either tried to talk to the girls and their charges, or started to intimidate the smallest of the Surrey boys, who never talked and only cried when everything was dark and no one could see. He had no name, regardless of how many times Laura and Rose tried to ask him. The Surrey brothers called him Freak, however. A cousin of their friend. A thin specimen and smaller than Malcolm, who was the same age. They too did not know his given name.

Time went by slowly. There was no visible day or night, only the cage and the lights on the ceiling. The rhythm was wrong in which the lights would go dark, not at all like a proper days cycle and enough weirdness to unsettle the kids deeply. Sleep was rare, and the only saving grace between the small cages and the mocking and violence from the bandits was that they were at least fed twice a day. The small one, Freak, even started to look healthier the longer he was there. He was also the one who had no problems with the small space he had been given, easily finding a position to sleep in.

In the end, it took nearly two weeks for the girls to make him talk. They called him Green Eyes, because his were almost unnaturally green in colour (the boys still called him Freak or Mop Head or Scar, for Green Eyes had the most unusual shaped scar right on his forehead), and even when the boy finally told them his name in a shy whisper and in the middle of the 'night' when the other Surrey boys where fast asleep. He only talked when it was dark, never when the lights went on, and when the bandits came, he would curl up into a tiny ball until they were gone.

Seventeen days after they were taken the kids woke up not to the bright, yellow-tinted light they were used to. They woke up to a dim red light, a shrill sound echoing through the whole ship. The room in which they had been caged in was empty of any bandits, but even here in the bowels of the vessel, they could hear their screams and the sound of running feet. A metallic taste was in the stale air and Rose had to quickly sooth the toddler before the boy could start crying from the unusual sounds.

"What is happening? Are they _shooting_?!" That was Malcolm. He was very pale as they all went still to better make out the fizzling sounds that could be heard right before a couple of loud gasps and cries.

"I think they are fighting", Laura whispered, holding Michael close. Her huge, hazel eyes were fixed on the grey door from which the bandits always came to bring them food and sometimes pain and mockery. It had just become harder to keep calm when they visited - each of the children had a new, tiny scar in their neck, where they had put the tiny translator. Now it came in handy as they could hear snippets of words - short, panicked orders and curses. More screams and cries. More metal in the air. When the door slammed open, they all scampered back against the walls. The person standing there was no bandit - at least none of those they knew, with their green jackets and the heavy boots. This one had pale, reddish skin and scales instead of hair on the back of his head. His face was still human enough to notice the visible surprise in his yellow, slanted eyes.

"Boss!" He bellowed. The screams had slowly found their end, but there were still many feet stomping above and around them, and they all stared at the alien they did not know. "Boss, there're younguns!" He held the door open for a heavy set alien, one with a darker tint to his scales, and eyes more orange than yellow. Boss too stared at the human children - Rose was rocking the toddler as her life depended on it, while Malcolm and Robert shivered uncontrollably. Green Eyes, Harry, had rolled himself up when he noticed the screams, and did not move from his position. "Livestock or goods ya reckon?"

"Goods", Boss grunted and started to inspect the children closer. "Relatively healthy, too. This one's damaged, tho." He pointed at Rose and her bandaged leg. It had not quite healed yet. "So they had a buyer, and got some spare ones." He spat on the floor before turning around. "Get them out of 'ere and onto the ship. Got some signals in, we need to get back to port before we end up Chitauri fodder."

Yellow Eyes nodded quickly. The last part made him move quickly as he fiddled with the locks on the cages. "Gotta get ya out, younguns. Dunno if we can bring ya back home, but those suckers're gone now so that's that, eh?" It took a while for the cages to give in and open up, and the children had only been able to crouch in their cages, so their legs were weak and wobbly, but one after the other got out of their cages, uncertain and afraid and so, so tired. A few other Scales soon came down in a hurry to simply carry the kids out of the prisoners' room. It was when Yellow Eyes reached Malcolm's cage when the second alarm sounded.

"Fuck." The word was hissed more than said when he listened to soft words spoken from a communicator in his pointed ear. "Fuck, fuck... dammit!" He stared for a second at the last cage he knew he would not be able to open in time, at the little curled up child, before cursing again and dragging a flinching Malcolm out of the room. The alarms where blaring now, a shrill, piercing sound. More gunfire, and a huge sucking sound, like a plug pulled out from a full bath tube.

* * *

 **March 14th, 2002  
** Somewhere Else, Beyond The Void

The Other stared at the human child in front of him. The Chitauri had brought the boy with them from one of their raids. He knew they did this occasionally, but most times said trinkets were random garbage, like pieces of metal and glass. This group, however, brought him a living being, and a young one to boot. He was not too damaged from his time with the Chitauri, who were known for their bloodlust, but obviously still traumatised by the unpleasant experience. Not that it would get any better for him. Maybe he should kill it. Maybe he should give it back to the Chitauri to play with it. He was not quite sure what to do.

Of course, he could gift it to Him. He was also known to collect trinkets from His journeys, boys and girls with the potential to become powerful additions to his forces. Sons and daughters, He called them fondly. The Other was still not sure if this one had any potential. It looked weak and damaged, but then it was of no race the Other had yet encountered. At least it was not crying or weeping, but then it could also have suffered damage to its head. The Other circled the boy, tilting his head just a tiny bit, before deciding to simply kill it and be done with it.

He had not expected the flare of magic that attacked him when he tried to touch the boy.

"So you do serve a purpose."

* * *

 **April 2th, 2002  
** The Temple

The Titan watched the boy being carried away. He had hoped to gain more information about the boys magic. It tasted wild to him, untamed, but certainly tameable. Unfortunately, he had not been able to get to know from where he came - his Chitauri had found the boy in deep space, but the ship he was in had already been too damaged to recover the flight routes and the boy was too young to remember any valuable information about his cradle planet. The Titan shook his head. He would take the boy in - magic wielders were rare and so very valuable, and the Other would see to it that he was properly trained. The boy had a strong will despite his pitiful body. The Titan hoped he would survive long enough to be of use for him.

At least he had enough tissue and blood samples to search for other abductees from this interesting planet were magic users were born. Another one to destroy after a rich harvest of children, hopefully.

* * *

 **April 28th, 2007  
** The Temple

He still remembered the first thing he had lost. It was how it was always done - if something was not good enough, Father would take it and replace it with something better. Father wanted his children to be as strong as He was, but to be strong one had to constantly work for it. They had to force themselves, to apply themselves. Better themselves, and prove to Him that they _were_ better. And if you failed to prove it, He would see what was weak and take it and replace it with something better.

The first thing Harry lost were his eyes.

"Weak", he still heard Father's voice saying when he lost the fight against his bother Azalel. Father had made Azalel watch later on as a gift for his win, when they laid Harry down onto the Table and cut out his eyes to be replaced by a pair that would no longer hinder him. That night, Azalel almost cried more than Harry, who was still in pain from the operation. Later, when it was Harry who had won and Father ordered him to stay and watch them work on Azalel, he learned why: Under the medicine they had given him beforehand, he had not noticed all the blood. Or the screams. That night it was Harry who cried himself hoarse.

They changed who they fought with randomly. To keep them on their toes, Father said. His only rule was that brothers fought only against brothers, and sisters against sisters. His favourite, a green-skinned girl named Gamora, sometimes watched the younger brothers train and fight with a sad expression on her face. His other favourite, the Luphomoid named Nebula, already had that hard, cruel glint in her black eyes that most of the older children and all of the adults had.

With the years came more training. More fighting. More lessons. They learned how to hurt, then how to kill their enemies and occasionally each other - those who were too weak were used for Fathers lessons to never get too attached to something. It worked with most of the brothers and sisters. They stopped to trust each other, and started to work solely for their own needs, tried to win as many fights possible to prove to Him that they were not weak, but worthy. Harry won fights and lost fights. With each fight he won, he lost the love of another brother and gained a new nightmare instead.

Time was worse here than on the bandits' spaceship. The sky was always dark, the place a ruin. Cold, ugly, dead. Sometimes, Harry would remember snippets from home. Little things, like how green the grass was, or how blue the sky. He would remember something nice and compare it with what he had here. He would do that after The Other had come to give him his special training, when he felt too exhausted to eat or drink, but was still unable to sleep.

He lost more things. When his liver acted up, it was especially bad. They cut open his whole left side, where his arm had already been made stronger (because his right arm was too important, it had to stay intact, because that's where his magic came out) and replaced the liver and other things. It would have never acted up had Azalel, who started to hate him with a vengeance when Harry turned eight, not slammed him so very viciously against a pillar. Most of the older brothers hate each other now. But there are always new little children arriving, new fodder to watch when the day grew dull enough.

He was ten when one of the adult brothers came to them. Out of twenty-seven brothers of Harry's group, only five remained. The adult brother, whose name was Khzen, took him and the other four with him. Because they were old enough. Because soon they would go out into the Universe for their first kill. He looked at Harry a lot, like most of the adult brothers would do - there were seven of them, all his brothers. None of them of the Black Order, Harry noticed.

"We all are Sons of Thanos", Khzen said. "Do you love Father?" And Harry, along with his other brothers, nodded. They knew it was a lie. Only the Order loved Father, the Order and The Other, and possibly some sisters as well. He felt uncomfortable, sitting next to Azalel, who always tried to hurt him before a fight.

"We all love him. So much that I must warn you, for there is a way to kill Father, and I wish for you to be wary."

That was the day Harry heard the Prophecy for the first time and swore to always, always be his Fathers son, even if Father himself would deny him in the future. All his brothers did, even Azalel. It was a promise, held by each generation of sons, of those who still lived, to only call Him father.

"It is said that only a Son of Thanos can kill the Titan."

* * *

 **June 10th, 2008**  
Office of the Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts

"I don't understand, Albus..."

The old wizard leaned forward to inspect the letter on the desk. All around them, nearly identical letters fluttered around, folding themselves before slipping into thick parchment envelopes. Those letters dipped down under a small pot with liquid wax in it, which dropped a dollop of wax onto the envelopes before an animated stamp punched them, leaving the Hogwarts crest behind. Next to the three people who were in the office, a magnificent and ancient quill wrote dutifully the names and addresses of the students onto the acceptance letters, one of which was placed between the fretting Minerva and a scowling Severus.

"At least we know that he is alive. Though I am not sure what this means." He sighed and turned around. "I will search my books, but you are free to send an owl with that letter." With a last glance for the envelope he made his way out of the office.

 _Harry James Potter,_  
 _The Temple,_  
 _Beyond the Void_

* * *

 **September 12th, 2008  
** Mining Station 23B-Alpha-066 "The Keep", Outer Ring

"He is ready, Master." With those words, Harry was send to collect his first kill out of the training grounds. He was eleven, though he didn't know that. Time, as it was measured on Earth, had little value for him. All that was left was surviving and getting stronger and never become cruel in his heart like most of his brothers and sisters became. Even Gamoras eyes were cold now. Harrys, as artificial as they were, had still some warmth in them. He still felt for his brothers when they were cut open and worked on. He cried in silence and silently when one of them died. He mourned the new trinkets, those poor boys and girls, when they arrived.

They had never told their sisters about the promise they had made. Gamora was almost a woman now, and he was deadly afraid of Nebula, who had killed a score of brothers already who got too close to her, but he loved them no less. He even loved Azalel, but never told him. Maybe he still knew it - after the promise, his brother had started to talk to him again. He still won against the tall, pale boy with his too-white eyes and his whispy grey hair. Had won a couple of times, even when he tried to lose on purpose. Maybe Father knew of his love for his siblings. Maybe watching Azalel scream and bleed (never much anymore - Azalel was as heavily worked on like Nebula) was His way to punish him for his affection.

Now, however, was his first time away from the Temple. A small vessel had taken him here, not manned by Chitauri like most of Father's ships, but by humanoid aliens. The Other had told him that he was to search and kill someone who had interfered with one of Father's plans. A male Kree called El-Shyr. It was all he needed to know, The Other had said, so that he could put his lessons to good use and search for the man himself. This was a tradition for the survivors of The Temple. The first order, the first blood to shed for Father. It would, however, not be the first time Harry had killed someone - Fathers children knew death intimately. His first kill had been some sorry prisoner of Father who had no further use for Him. Others followed. Twice he had killed one of his younger brothers, those too weak to continue fighting and improving. Once, he had killed a brother by winning the fight. He had watched him die while being worked on and had been unable to sleep for many nights afterwards.

This, this would be easier, he told himself as he walked through the station. Despite being used as a mining station, The Keep was a known hotspot for a multitude of trading. Far enough away from the Nova Empire to not be on their constant radar, the black market was blooming in the public districts of the old station and a meeting point for people that had money on their heads. For Harry, who had never seen a station in person, who had always been a prisoner in one way or another, it was marvellous. He knew most of the races he saw - Father adopted his children for their strengths, not for their race, like he adopted Harry after The Other told him about his magic (he shuddered, thinking back to those days, thinking back to the interrogation, and swiftly pushed it back back back). They had also lessons other than fighting. Lessons about politics, about weapons, about wars and crimes and religions and engineering. About stealth. About torture.

He held his breath for a moment before continuing on his chosen path. No one batted an eye on the child walking amongst them. While most known races were humanoid enough, they did vary in things like skin colour and size, so his childlike appearance did not bother the people on the station one bit. For a moment Harry wondered if they would bother more when knowing who he was. Who his Father was.

It took him a couple of hours to find El-Shyr who spent his time celebrating a deal gone well in a shady bar, surrounded by drunkards and whores and alcohol. Killing him was not a problem - he had bought some cheap poison, which would cause most races a headache and a Kree to vomit blood while their guts dissolved in a rather painful, but fast way. Anocadzin was banned under prison time throughout the whole of the Nova Empire and under death in Kree territory, but in the Outer Ring of civilized space, it was easy to produce and a rather cheap sell. It had to be cheap - Harry only had a few units to spent. The Other wanted him to kill either with a sharp knife, or with his magic. It was the latter that he chose to use, hiding the vial of Anocadzin from the eyes of the mundane and floating it gently towards the table that hosted El-Shyr and his friends. A few drops would suffice. Harry used the whole two drams.

Getting away in the following chaos was easy enough. He had stood there long enough in his corner to watch the Kree spasm and die and knew that The Other had watched the scene through Harrys eyes. When he climbed back into the ship, he closed them, thinking back to all the different shops and services he had seen in The Keeps black market.

* * *

 **Words:** 4077

The following is a rough timeline of the more important parts regarding both fandoms:

1988 - Peter is taken from earth  
1997 - Harry is born  
1998 - Lord Voldemort 'dies'  
2002 - Harry is taken from earth  
2012 - Avengers  
2014 - GotG  
2015 - GotG 2  
2015 - Age of Ultron  
2015 - Harry returns to earth


	2. Murder

**AN:  
I'm so proud. Harrys first plan. Enjoy!**

 **Murder - Within Temptation  
**

* * *

 **October 31st, 2008  
** The Temple

Azalel had changed after their elder brothers had told them the secret. He was reckless in his fights now and always angry. Not at Harry, though, like he usually was - he was angry at their minders and the guards and the Other. So, so angry at Father. But his anger only led to punishments and injuries and lost fights, because the younger brothers didn't yet know the secret, have yet to make the promise and were eager to win their fights against their elder siblings.

Harry on the other hand only grew more concentrated and determinded, especially after his first mission. The Other was not as pleased with him as he could have been, but Father had given him rare praises and he had not been punished, so all was good. He grew stronger, too, and won most of his fights. He still watched his brother with worry, taking notice of the crazed glint in his eyes. He had seen many brothers and sisters with the cruel, the cold glint (and rarely he saw hidden warmth that was so hard to keep intact here, but some had it, like Gamora), and he avoided them. He only once saw someone with crazy eyes however - most died before they could possibly reach that state, or died shortly after losing the last bit of sanity they possessed. And now it was forming in Azalels eyes, and Harry didn't know how to make it go away.

And now they were fighting again. Before the secret, they had been an even match whenever they had to face each other. Since then Azalel had lost a lot of matches, however. He reminded Harry of Nebula, who was already a young woman like Gamora and had more metal and wires in her body than actual flesh. He could see all the seams of the plating under the pale, silvery skin of his brother, plating which showed golden on his arms and shins and forehead. His once icy blue eyes were quite electric blue now, unlike Harrys, which had been made to look like his old pair. Where before white, whispy hair had hung down to his shoulders, Azalel was bald now, and his movements were no longer flowing like a living being, but mechanical like his body. It was scary, how little facial expressions he made nowadays. And scary that Harry could see the crazed glint in the first place in such dead, manmade eyes.

Normaly, he would have already won this match. He could see Azalel struggling to keep up, to access and master every new part of him and use it in combat. Every kid had their own limit how many times they could be worked on before they were too overwhelmed by it all. It was like a clock ticking down your time to live. The Temple didn't promote compassion and friendship - Father wanted his children to always compete for the top spots of his favoured, so that only the strong would serve him in the end. To this end, rework was done until the child died on the Altar, in a fight or in a mission - or until the child was strong enough to always win and reach adulthood without visiting the Altar too much. Nebula was one of the only ones that survived despite the heavy work they had put into her body.

And Nebula was the one person Harry didn't want Azalel to look like.

So he had to lose against Azalel. He still looked mostly intact, with most of his enhancements inside his body where they were hard to see. His left side had been worked on the most duo to an organ failure after a vicious fight, and of course his eyes had been replaced , but he could stomache more. Yet Harry hesitated, knowing that after this spar, he was to embark on his second mission (his most important one) and he had to be strong for that. Strong like he was now. He couldn't risk the Altar. Couldn't risk losing and failing afterwards because he was still in pain.

Couldn't betray Azalel with his crazy eyes.

Couldn't betray the Promise.

His eyes met his brothers. Artificial emerald green and fake, electrical blue, just a fraction of a second. It has been so long since he had seen Azalel smile that it threw Harry completely off guard. That was quite enough for his brother to dive in and close the careful gap Harry had maintained to ponder his problem and come to a decision, and enough time to take the decision out of his hands.

The sound of Azalels flesh (and the scraping of metal against metal) under the blade of his knife was just a bit more sickening than the small amount of blood and the flying sparks that erupted from his brothers chest. The image of Azalel on the Altar, screaming and bleeding and connected to far too many cables and tubes, would be the last memory Harry had of him for a long, long time.

* * *

 **November 5th, 2008  
** Colony "Esa", Moon 3-Beta, Asaol, Outer Ring

A few dozen lightyears closer to the Core from The Keep was Esa, one of the last sponsored Colonys in the Outer Ring. Located on a medium sized moon of the planet Asaol, the Colony held about 13.000 people in one big city and a couple of farms around. Moon 3-Beta (located on the third orbit around Asaol, dwarfed by 3-Alpha, a giant yellowish moon that shares the orbit with 3-Beta) was fertile and tame enough for colonization without depending on costly environmental technology. It had it's own ecosystem already established (a bit barren, but enough for an atmosphere which only needed a bit enrichment), which was the reason for the government on Xandar to spent good money on it despite being so far away. Over the years, however, it proved to be too much of a bother. Patrols lessened until only once every couple of months a ship from Nova Corps would show its presence instead of every couple of weeks, and while long distance communication was nearly instantaneous, Esa itself was not very keen on reporting every little criminal action that happened here, happy with the amount of freedom they had.

That aside, not too much crime was allowed on 3-Beta. Just that it wasn't Nova Corps you had to deal with.

Harrys second mission didn't quite go as well as his first. The Other had been displeased by the small amount of magic Harry had been willing to use, so he gave him a mission quite harder to complete to force the boy into using the still unstable power. More often than not, the boys magic liked to do what it wanted to do whenever Harry failed to concentrate enough. Small things, like letting objects float or change colour, came naturally. Changing one object to another (as he had done in his early years, changing a knife into a flower in his panic during a fight) was still a gamble, however. Pain and fear seemed to help, but even the most timid boy got used to those during their stay in The Temple (if they survived, that is).

So a mission it was. One that brought Harry into a colony that was known for its own quite impressive security system and brutal law enforcement duo to the welcomed distance between Esa and Xandar. The boy had to keep his wits about him for this one - the person he was to kill was Oren Dalmer, a Xandarian and former Nova Corps officer, who now held the position of Chief Deputy within the much harsher police force on Esa.

Milling around in a small park that bordered on the local police station, Harry almost looked like the other preteens on the moon, with sturdy, dark trousers and bright top and the hair cut short until one could see his translator implant under the little scar on his neck and the faint lines behind his ears that would always remind him of his first enhancement whenever he traced them with his fingers. It was a nervous habit of his, to rub over the small lip of fake skin until it flapped up and exposed the port underneath it, used to adjust the implants. He had another set of three ports on his left side, right under the ribcage - he knew they were not only for adjustment, but also to feed his implants new material when he grew. Like all his siblings with major internal redesign, he too had to get measured each quarter so that his implants worked properly. The last three times he had been very attentive to the process.

His eyes flickered back to the reinforced door of the sturdy building, pushing the flap back onto the port and swinging his legs in an idle manner. Other kids played around him - the area right around the various police buildings were deemed the safest to be, so the parents would unload their children in the parks that could often be found there to play and relax a bit. It was not overly full, but the atmosphere felt off to Harry, who was not used to so much laughter and banter. So he tried to ignore the playing kids as good as he was able to and concentrated on the three officers exiting the station. One of them had the marks of a Chief Deputy on them. Shaggy, blond hair, a bit on the bigger side for his race (still a bit smaller than galaxy standart for adult males) with obvious muscles under his cyan uniform. Esas officers wore padded ones, obviously armored, and their weapons on open display, both long range weapons and melee. Chief Deputy Oren Dalmer looked like he knew how to use them, too. With the sound of screams and laughter in his ears, Harry moved from the swing he had seated himself some three hours ago. Only a few adults took notice of the boy who moved through the other children towards the street, but most people took things they assume for granted - like assuming that the boy was walking back to his parents instead following three officers down the street.

* * *

 **November 11th, 2008  
** Colony "Esa", Moon 3-Beta, Asaol, Outer Ring

Chief Deputy Dalmer was not a very strict man, but with a steady job came a somewhat steady daily routine. He woke up around 6 am and spent an hour with his morning business, grooming and breakfast and walked to the station. Work started 7:30 am, but usually Dalmer was a couple of minutes early for coffee and a smoke with his colleagues to catch a bit of gossip. The morning was filled with desk work unless something really bad happened that needed someone of his rank. He took two little 10 minute breaks before lunch break for a smoke and went to grab something to eat at 1 pm. After lunch, from 2 to 5 pm, he was on patrol with two of his officers, one Palm Rakhel, a palm Aerie who was a couple years older than Dalmer but not ambitious enough to rise in rank, and young Cull-Zher, a Kree who was not sold on the whole racist crap a lot of his kind spouted and who still had to learn the ropes from his two seniors. After patrol, Dalmer was fond of doing some odd desk jobs to prepare for the next day while the night shift took over the station.

Harry had been on Esa for a galactic standart week, and most of his time he had spent with stalking his prey. It was easier at daytime - at night, a child was too conspicious, and he was unable to hide himself with his magic, like he could hide smaller objects. But he was small and trod quietly and managed somehow. It was hard to find set times in which Dalmer was alone on work days, and on his weekly day off that Harry had witnessed, Dalmer had been off with a couple of friends. Both the station and his private home would require Harry to break in, something he had yet to learn properly. He had no interest in attacking the man when he was on patrol either - it was the time he was most heavily armed. His lunchtime, however, showed irregularities.

Dalmer was very fond of a specific restaurant, and his colleagues didn't share this love.

He was currently on his way to the small etablissement just two streets away from the station. Risky, but the best place he had seen yet. It was just open enough to hide, and with the rarity of magic users and the high costs of equiptment to scan for such things, the chances that someone could pinpoint certain supernatural accidents onto one person was close to nil. That was, if one was subtle in his use of magic. Or chose to use magic at all. It was an important decision to make, although if Harry was quite honest with himself, that decision had been made not by him, but by his brother not two weeks ago. He could not possibly bear to see Azalels sanity wasted on an unused opportunity. His brother had lost for him to be properly prepared for this mission, after all.

Dalmer entered the restaurant first. He would need a couple of minutes to get seated and to order his food, and Harry took this time to suck in deep, calming breaths. He didn't enjoy killing people, but after years of training it came easy to him to push the disgust down until he only felt a faint dislike and the wish to find a better option. For the boy however the options were quite limited, and it was simply not worth it to let Dalmer live. Still, it was not like killing the Kree. This was more like killing the poor prisoners of Father, or killing his own siblings. People that had done nothing too terrible and that still died at the hands of equally desperate children. But the times where he couldn't bear the blood on his hands were gone already. It was something to be accepted, because if he didn't, it would drive him mad.

Touching the piece of dead wood in his pocket, he cautiously entered the restaurant. It was nothing fancy, but the menu was somewhat exotic in nature - the people of Esa were a mix of Xandarians and Aeries, with only a few other races living here. Those only on the visit mingled mostly near the port and didn't venture into city proper too often, but this restaurant catered to Aphilix and thus served hearty meals made up of insect protein. It didn't bother Harry, who was used to plain nutrition cubes that tasted like nothing with a sprinkle of ash, but a lot of people were disgusted by that. His target sat at his favourite table close to the windows, a tucked in two-seater with a good view of both the entrance and the door to the kitchens. Harry felt Dalmers eyes on him, but soon the Chief Deputy lost his interest in a single boy who was probably here to sate his curiosity.

Not many people were inside, either way. With his faked huge eyes and wrinkled nose, Harry took his time to gape around, all the while getting a feel for who sat who, before settling onto Dalmer himself. Playing the curious boy was hard to pull off for him, but he did well enough for the uninterested crowd. Father had his reasons why he trained his children from a young age. People tended to trust kids more than adults. Especially when said kids would show up unarmed on most radars - wood was good like that, fooling the tech that was searching for metals and plastic.

"Excuse me, sir?" His voice was a bit rough from the lack of talking, but he didn't worry. Dalmer was calm when he regarded Harry once again, this time with a tad more interest than before. There was a hint of annoyance, but he didn't send him away when he approached the lone table at the windows. People mingled on the street and Harry felt on display. He knew this was risky. Knew that the Other was watching him, now that he had approached the target. The Other had made it clear that Harry was to use his magic with this kill - preferably without being noticed. He could feel the dead wood heavy in his pockets - he had strengthened the material over the last couple of days, whenever he had sat down to wait for the Chief Deputy, and it was now hard as good steel, and wickedly sharp right at the point.

"How can I help you?" The words sounded friendly enough, but again Harry sensed some annoyance from the man. Not enough that the man wouldn't talk to him for a few minutes. His eyes were fixed on Dalmers, willing the Other to see.

"Oh, I just saw that you were an officer, sir. My mom said that without you Esa would be a really bad place, and she said I should become an officer. Was it very hard?" He put some of his growing worry into his voice and was rewarded with a small smile on the blonde mans face.

"Well, see here..." Chief Deputy Oren Dalmer saw the makeshift knife coming, but he was too close to stop the pointed end to enter his soft flesh of his throat. He had leant closer to inspect the future officer in front of him, maybe to part with some patronising words of working hard and doing good in school. Maybe he was more realistic and would actually tell the truth - that only hard people survived this job on this outskirt colony, far away from proper law. It sounded more like him, and Harry took this thought and put it into his precious corner in his mind. Dalmer earned to be remembered, if only for the fact that his death had helped Harry.

When the flailing body hit the floor, throat a bloody, gurgling mess, he fled from the scene. He had little hope to escape law enforcement for too long - this time, the waiting shuttle would not approach until it was safe to do so to pick Harry up, and in a colony this small it was easy to find a murderer, especially with witnesses. The piece of wood was left in the restaurant. In the end, it took only a couple of hours for the police to find him and take him away into the cells. Harry made sure to run and hide till the end, however, with eyes wide open for the Other to see.

He didn't allow himself to smile until after the officers left him alone in his little cell. He knew that there would be pain waiting for him, but he was used to that. He also knew that Esas law enforcement was known for their harsh punishments - he had made sure to read the laws and listen to the street for what really happened behind closed doors.

And he knew the most important detail: That for the murder of an officer, a Chief Deputy no less, the criminal would be send to the higher court to receive their penalty. A court far closer to the core region of the galaxy. And far enough away from The Temple to initiate the second part of the plan he made more than a year ago, in a hidden part of The Temple, when he first heard of the secret. Maybe he wasn't so bad at planning after all.

* * *

 **Words:** 3314


	3. Jailbreak

**AN:  
This did not go like Harry planned. Enjoy!**

 **Jailbreak - AC/DC**

* * *

 **November 15th, 2008  
** The Temple

"And he is trying to escape?"

The Other bowed deeply. "Yes, Master. Naturally the vermin are taking their revenge for the death of one of their own, but the boy is quite resiliant and is searching for a way out."

The Titan nodded and started to smile. "Let them have their fun. It will do the boy good. He may even learn his lesson. We will take him when they send him off to court - a ship is easier to handle than a colony, and they are not worth the ammunition to destroy their pitiful little moon."

"Yes, Master." The Other smiled then, too. It was certainly interesting to watch the boy enchant the wood as too fool the scanners, but it was the high of stupidity to kill the target at such an exposed location. It had to be his youth, he mused when he vanished with his Masters blessing. Certainly an act of arrogance, trying out some showmanship to impress his Master. He was close to that age, after all, and even later on they rarely lost this crave. Even the Black Order, his Masters most trusted children, were fond to put their abilities on display. Yes, he would let the little magician learn his lesson. For his clever use of subtle transformation the Other would later lessen the punishment he would receive in the Temple.

His thoughts were interrupted when he arrived in the medical bay in the blink of an eye. Within the Temple, movement was but a thought for him, and the staff were hardly surprised by his comings and goings anymore. "How is he?"

One of the healers came closer and bowed. "His mind is heavily fractured, but he is useful still." He nodded. That was rare - most broken things tended to be broken all over. But sometimes, insanity did not cripple the body. "Good. Keep him alive then, and see to it that he at least understands his place and his tasks. If he dies anyway, or becomes useless, salvage what you can. His body is a work of art."

* * *

 **November 18th, 2008  
** A cell, Colony "Esa"

All in all, it wasn't both as bad as he had thought, and worse than he had hoped for. They had taken their time to question the boy who had killed one of their own in such a brutal fashion, flinging his makeshift dagger in front of his face. Sometimes they tried to play friendly, but most times the officers who handled the prisoner just screamed and threatend and more often than not used their fists to try and get Harry to talk. He was almost glad to have gone through the training at the Temple, for he kept his mouth closed and his eyes open throughout it all. The older Aerie and the young Kree were the worst. The morals of the average Kree were fickle at best, declaring their children to be adults when they were still young, thus making it near impossible for the officer to feel too much empathy with Harry. The Aerie was not as emotionally impaired as officer Cull-Zher, but he had liked the dead Chief Deputy very much and enough to foregoe any sympathy he could have with a child Harrys age. Both used every opportunity to be in charge of the interrogations, and the station gave those rather freely.

Still, it was not as bad as it could have been. They prefered to use their fists and feet, not their weapons. Maybe because it felt better to them, taking their revenge with their bare hands. And while the food was stale and meager, they still fed Harry, if only to make sure he would live until they brought him to court.

Three times the boy had made an attempt to flee. It was convincing enough for his captors, and he hoped it would also convince the Other, who would surely monitor Harry if only to make sure that he knew when they would ship the boy away. Harry relied on this - relied on the cruelty of the man, and the higher convenience of retaking the boy from a ship instead of a whole colony. They would surely wait for Harry to be brought out. They had to. But he wasn't sure of it, and it maddened him not to know. Hated the guessing game.

Some nights, when the lights went out, he remembered the first cage he had sat in. One night, he dreamt of another cage, a dark and cramped place under a set of stairs, of whisps of red and a cruel, green laughter. Some nights, he thought of Azalel and the last time he had seen his brother, bound on the Altar as he was, with wires and cables coming out of his body, and he wondered if this was worth it all.

On his fifth day of interrogations, beatings and long nights alone, another prisoner was brought in and into the cell across the hallway. He was of average high, but his thin, slightly gangly form made him look bigger than he was. He had dark, shortish hair that was buzz trimmed on the sides, grey-green eyes and a rough, stubbly beard and seemed to be at least two decades older than Harry. It was never that easy to really tell how old people were for even if he was a human, actual aging depended pretty much on where you were born just as much as what race you were.

The guy was nice enough despite his own beaten up appearance and called himself Kraglin, the mercenary. He talked a lot for someone who got pretty much no answers back - he was probably nervous, having heard how rough Esa could be with its criminals, but luckily he either didn't want to know why Harry himself was in the cell or was intelligent enough to sense that the boy would not be truthful, even if he answered for a chance. He was persistent, though, and at nighttime finally got Harry to talk to him, asking for his name. It wasn't much in the way of conversation, but Kraglin had an oddly charming way, smiling ever so often and trying to cheer Harry up. "You remind me of one of me mates", he would say ever so often. "Wee Peter, always gets into trouble that one."

It was nice, in a soothing way, and took some of Harrys worries away.

* * *

 **November 21th, 2008  
** A cell, Colony "Esa"

"They gonna bring you to court tomorrow, yes?" Kraglin sat with his back against the wall with his knees close to his chest, peering curious over to the dark haired boy in the other cell. How the kid came to be here, he didn't know, but he was always of the opinion that something was wrong with the universe when children sported black eyes and bruises all over. Most kids doing stupid stuff had some adults behind them urging them on - he would know, what with practically raising one Peter Quill after Yondu decided to keep the lad. A lot of the Ravagers had been hard to the kid, trying to scare him off early on, but Peter grew bouncy under the pressure where others would go hard or break. This one however, this one was hard all over, but Kraglin was not a stupid man. He could see the softness in his eyes, still lingering. He had yet to make Harry smile, but one time his lips had twitched.

"Yes", the short answer came a few moments later, almost thoughtful. The voice was still high and had not broken yet. He likened the boy with himself when he was young - between ten and twelve years old, maybe? Older than Peter was when they had picked him up from that backwater planet, but not so much older. Kraglin hummed and nodded, closing his eyes again. In a couple of minutes the lights would go out for the night, which he was waiting for. "You reckon what they will do to you?"

There is a soft shuffle. "Prison, most likely. Long term, that's why they are gonna ship me off." Kraglin had already learned what the lad had done. Killing some Deputy guy, in broad daylight. It wasn't that the Ravager was in any way squirmish when it came to killing folks - he had enough blood on his hand, what with being a mercenary. Mostly it bothered him when his mates killed normal people without it being neccessary. Luckily enough, the Code forbid any dealings with kids - even exiled, the captain didn't stand for violence against children from his rowdy crew, something that he enforced even harsher since his deal with Ego. Kraglin too hated killing children. And while Harry already had a hard shell, it would not be hard enough for general prison time where he would be dealt with like an adult.

"Sounds like shit. You better run for it, lad."

"I tried, but since I got one of their own they make sure to have three sets of eyes on me. 'sides, last try got me a nasty beating." Kraglin snorted and opened one eye to look at the boy who had laid himself down on the hard floor. He had dragged the thin excuse of a pillow with him and faced the ceiling. "I may try again later, at the court. Where's the next one?"

"Talladhir, some sixty clicks away. That will be a long trip." Now the boy was humming in agreement. He shouldn't be so calm about this. Shouldn't come back from 'interrogations' with more bruises for show and not even cry a bit. "Should tell'em someone forced you. Like, dunno, your sis' is held hostage. Some sob story. With them eyes on your face they will eat out of your hand." It was not entirely a joke - the boy had a well formed face, and Talladhirs population was mostly made up by humanoid folk who would notice Harry as the kid he was. "Press out some big ol' tears and all while you're at it." He saw the boy scrunching his nose and shaking his head, remaining silent. While he had started to talk to Kraglin, the Ravager had to do most of the work to keep the conversations alive, but he didn't mind that. With people always telling him to shut the fuck up or else, it was nice to talk as much as he wanted. Especially when he had time to kill, so he tried again and again to make Harry smile a bit. He managed a soft snort and congratulated himself.

* * *

 **November 21th, 2008  
** A cell, Colony "Esa"

He started to like the man around the third night spent together, when the guy had told him story after story of his captain, young Peter Quill and himself getting into trouble. Mostly it was the boy who started this - Kraglin had admitted that the kind of trouble Yondu got into was mostly quite serious, given that he was the leader of a band of mercenaries. Ravagers, he called his crew, though the clan he belonged to had been exiled from the syndicate some twenty years ago. Harry didn't know much more about this group despite having heard of the name itself in one of his lessons, but the crests (a flame, Kraglin shows him a tattoo on his upper left arm) are new to him. The bandits he had met all these years ago had no crests. Only ragged clothing and a ragged ship.

He often compared Harry to Peter, who was a man now, but had grew up with the crew, practically raised by Captain Yondu and Kraglin, who was first mate on the Eclector, the flagship of Yondus clan. There was a certain fondness Harry detected in Kraglins voice when he spoke of both of them that endeared the man further to the boy. This, and the obvious attempts to make him laugh.

Laughter was a rare thing in the Temple. The children often were too tired, angry, hurt or afraid to do something as easy as laughing, even if it was not forbidden to express happiness. Harry himself wondered when it was that he laughed the last time or even snickered - a couple of months surely, when one of his older sisters had made a somewhat dark joke. He would have liked to smile for Kraglin, but he decided to play it save, fearing that the Other was watching. So he replied with safe answers and was glad that Kraglin filled the silence with his charming chatter. It was nice, like a blanked for his frayed nerves, and he felt sadness because it would soon be over. It was, after all, his last night on Esa. Tomorrow they would sent him away, and then he would make his escape before his dubious 'rescue' the Other surely had planned came to get him.

Both his thoughts and Kraglins chatter ended rather abruptly. The lights had been switched off not even an hour ago when the sound of alarm sirens echoed through the police station. It was like the bandits ship all over again, but this time Harry was even more afraid of the outcome. It couldn't be the Other, it really couldn't. He was in no danger to die here, or had Father ordered his people to bring him back to the Temple? He could hear Kraglin move inbetween the thunderous sound of his fast beating heart. Maybe he should end it here. He couldn't go back. Couldn't try it again. All that was waiting for him at the Temple was a broken brother and suffering. Harry knew he was going into shock, hands cold and clammy and his breathing way too fast. Should he try to suffocate himself with his magic? Should he...

"...arry! **Harry**!" Kraglins voice sounded paniced, and that was what forced Harry out of his own thoughts. With huge eyes he stared a couple of seconds at the man, who was in turn staring at the pale boy. "Don't you panic on me now! I need you to concentrate, yes? Get away from the cell door when they come in. They will get us out of 'ere."

The boy blinked a few times as he drew a blank. Kraglin knew? Was he one of Fathers people too, and his stories no more than lies, told to lure him in? Before he could open his mouth however, the thick metal door was blasted open and Kraglin started to call out to someone. Instinctually Harry took some steps away from the barred door of his cell when two heavy armed men walked into the cell tract.

"I'm here, go get this fucking door open!" Kraglin hurried back after his call, and not to soon - one of the men, with glossy, blue-green skin and huge, black eyes, pointed his gun at the cell door and shot repeatedly at the lock which simply melted away. It was then that Harry noticed the crest on the dark red leather jackets they both wore. It was the same crest that Kraglin had showed him, a stylised yellow flame above the left chest. After that, time seemed to hurry. Kraglin ran out of his cell, grabbed the gun from Fisheye and blasted Harrys door open without even explaining his mates the situation. "Come on!" The boy scrambled out, still dazed. He felt his hand being taken and himself being pulled towards the former door of the tract and out of the police station. Two M-ships were waiting, hovering above the street while even more red clad Ravagers fought with police forces. At the moment, the Ravagers had the advantage of a surprise attack, but they were hurrying along - Harry knew that more forces would come soon, but the Ravagers were clearly not planning to stay long enough to let that happen. Already they were retreating back towards the ships who opened up their ramps in welcome. And before Harry could really even **think** about getting away, he was dragged up one of the ramps and into one of the M-ships.

"Shit, Krags, what's the runt doin' here?" The ramps closed. Harry could hardly feel the ship move, but he could see a small window, and behind it the world flew away. Suddenly he could breath again and looked up to his cellmate, who bristled up a bit when Fisheye started with the questions.

"Dunno why that's interesting for ya, Bikkers. Didn't want him to die is all." Fisheye made an irritated noise, eyeing the boy in a sceptical fashion. Other Ravagers did so too, but Harry himself was too busy with calming himself, eyes scrunched shot, to really notice.

"You okay, laddie?" Kraglins question is a soft whisper, as if not to alert his crewmates. Carefully, Harry shook his head, before leaning to his side. "You got a tech guy on your ships that knows his way around visual implants?" Kraglin seemed to be surprised by the counter question, but confirmed this while pushing the boy into a seat a bit further away from the bulk of the seven Ravagers that were in the ship besides the two of them. "He might want to take a look at my eyes before I open them again."

"Shit, they **monitor** you?" He only got a nod out of that, before touching his own neck, where the spine met the skull. "And locator... of course, a locator too. The visor will be easy, but a spine locator will hurt like a bitch... Shit. Okay, I will sort this out, yes? Fuckin' cops."

* * *

 **November 22th, 2008  
** The Eclector

"You have **what**?"  
"Well, couldn't have him get killed now, could I?"  
"Well, maybe not, but why bring him with you?"

Sometimes, it was hard for Yondu to understand the somewhat simple mind of one Kraglin Obfonteri. Not that the guy was really stupid (though he would never say that aloud, or else Krags would get an overly large head), but he had a simple way of seeing the world. Especially when it came to kids. He had been the first to take a liking towards Peter after that whole Ego debacle. Maybe it would have been better had Yondu stamped that fondness out in the very beginning. "We don't pick up strays left, right and center, Kraglin. We ain't a toddlers care here. We are Ravagers! Peter was hard enough to handle, that dratted boy, and you want to what? Bring in another? Ya ain't a mother, Krags!"

"Never said I was gonna keep him, Captain. But at least get him out of there. Laddie killed some cop, don't ask me how that runt did it, but they wanted to bring him to some big ass court on Talladhir for it, and you know what **that** means. They even put visors and locators and shit in him! Sal is taking them out right now." That had Yondu in a bind - he couldn't very well throw a kid out that was, right now, under Sals dubious care. "I don't know, Kraglin. Still fishy, I tell ya."

"You can question him. Promise, Captain, he's a got wee laddie." Well, shit. He had hoped not to take one look at the boy before he had him thrown out, somewhere a good bit away from Esa and its wraith. But Kraglin always looked so earnest when he did his promises. He would rather die than tell anyone though that he was a softie to the core. "Biggest green eyes you ever saw, boss. Bet he can handle every woman from here to Pluvian. Not the greatest talker, too." Fuck Kraglin and his earnest face, that little shithead was manipulating him! He bristled at that and threw a hateful glance towards his shiteating first mate.

"Fine! But this is your problem from now on! And I will hear no whining when we get rid of him, ya hear me!"

* * *

 **November 22th, 2008  
** The Eclector

Kraglin was careful enough not to smile when he watched his captain engaged in a stare down with the rescued boy. Sal had done a thorough scan on him and found another hidden spine locator on his lower back that he removed with the one in the neck. Harry was now sitting upright on a small cot, eyeing the blue skinned Centaurian with both interest and open distrust. Yondu was mainly oggling at the runt. After having seen the scans of all the implants the little guy had, he had stopped ranting and sulking, marching right into sickbay to take a look for himself.

The first mate silently congratulated himself. He knew quite well (like a few others of the crew and Peter, of course), that the foul-mouthed captain was a closet softie. He wouldn't ignore a prime example of an uncaring universe right in front of him. Whoever had sent the boy to kill the cop had done quite a job on his body.

"Thank you." It was said softly, but also cautious. Harry pointed at his own neck - only a bit of bandage indicated where he had been cut open just a couple hours ago. "For getting rid of this. I have not much, but I can try to repay you before going?"

Kraglin watched Yondus shoulders stiffen and his face frown. "Oh, you will repay me, lad! And ol' Kraglin will help with that. Ain't you going anywhere before, ya hear?" It was thrown roughly at the boy who blinked in bewilderment but couldn't answer properly for Yondu has already turned around to make a hasty exit.

"What was **that**?" The boy sounded so confused that Kraglin simply couldn't snicker. "The captain said you can stay. Only he will blame us for it." He patted Harrys hand, taking a seat next to his cot. It told a rather sad tale that this short interaction seemed to rattle the boy more than the beatings on Esa. "Don't worry, I will show you the ropes, laddie."

* * *

 **November 22th, 2008  
** The Temple

His Master was livid with rage, and the Other knew that it was his own fault. The pain was both sweet and bitter, a constant reminder that despite his own considerable strenght, the Titan would always be his better in all aspects that truly mattered. The Other was on his knees, his dark, viscous blood in a puddle beneath him and his Masters voice ringing in his ears.

"He was precious to me. And you lost him the night before he was to return to me!" The Other didn't dare to move or even to breath, glad that he had no such strong need for the thin air like other servants of the Titan. He could feel the disappointment that his Master felt and bowed his head further in shame and regret. He had failed to check on the boy on that night, sure in his believe that the child would stay put until he was in space again. Fate mocked him with the loss of the child, one of the very few with a real grasp on magic, innate and inborn and with so much potential. Worse yet was the fact that both the visor and the locators had been destroyed, presumably when the colony had been attacked by other forces unknown to him. Already the Master thought his son dead, and if the Other was not careful enough, he would soon follow that fate.

"We still have a probe of his blood, Master. Not all is lost yet. We will screen every slave ship that cross through the unmapped regions where we found him. I will find his craddle planet for you, I swear it." It was barely enough to ensure he was still alive after his Master punished him. So sweet, so bitter the taste of his own blood. And so, so earned.

* * *

 **November 28th, 2008  
** The Eclector

He could hardly sleep after they had taken his visor and locator out. In his idle time, between dodging the unpleasant lot of the Ravagers, exploring the Eclector and following Kraglin (and Yondu, for Kraglin was mostly with him), he would find himself rubbing and prodding the spots where the ships main techy, Sal, had pulled the spyware out. It was hard to sleep and let himself relax - the ship was still new and frightening to Harry, as well as the whole situation. True, he had planned to get away from the Temple, but he had envisioned himself on a smaller shuttle, getting rid of Esas escort and escaping from anything Father sent for his retrieval. He had envisioned himself dodging Fathers Chitauri until he made his way to some port, getting rid of the spyware by selling the shuttle. He was supposed to do this **alone** , for this to be so much harder and far more risky.

Instead, he had met Kraglin by chance, who had tried to sell dubious loot to the wrong person and got sacked for it. And Kraglin, for reasons unknown, had taken a liking to him (and wasn't that the weirdest part of it all!). So much indeed that the first mate simply took Harry with him when his crew came to the rescue.

And now he was here, practically **free** , and didn't quite know what to do. It was frightening and exciting and new.

* * *

 **December 14th, 2008  
** Iron Lotus, Contraxia

"Who's the imp?"

Life with the Ravagers had been... weird. Harry really couldn't say if he liked it or not, but it was so much better than the Temple that he had quickly chosen to stay for at least a little while longer. It would also mean to be close to Kraglin, to whom Harry attached himself. For some reasons, the captain, Yondu Udonta, disliked this budding friendship between his first mate and the boy he proclaimed he had saved. The man was seriously irritating.

The guy in front of him was neither Kraglin nor Yondu, though. Thankfully, he didn't look like the other Ravagers he had the misfortune to know. Most of the crew were stupid and dirty and vicious, and while Yondu was not the most pleasant man Harry had seen so far, he had a good grip on his men, which Harry appreciated. He had heard one too many times the threat of featuring the next meal from the crew members of the Eclector and wasn't sure how to handle it. Maybe he should follow Yondus jokes of killing the next foul mouth like he killed the cop. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, too - the captain clearly didn't belief his first mate when he had been told the reason for Harrys imprisonment.

"Shut it, Quill. This is Harry, and already loads better than you ever were." Speaking of the devil... Yondus hand landed heavily on Harrys left shoulder. The boy had to suppress a flinch before gradually relaxing again. His own background and his current location on a planet unknown to him (a planet mostly set up with shady bars and brothels) made him twitchy. He had to be careful - in his short time with the mercenaries, he had already destroyed a couple pieces of equiptment when some stupid Ravager thought it funny to scare him. The lack of training from the Other made his magic feel itchy, eager to come out. It was one of the reasons he had agreed to come with Yondu and Kraglin when they talked about spending some time on solid ground - here he was free to let some of his magic loose, making things float or invisible without paying too much attention to the love bots and drunken customers around him. Kraglin had brought him here after a couple of hours, in one of the more friendly bars (which, really, didn't mean much here), to meet with the fabled Peter Quill.

Harry wasn't impressed.

"You were right, Yondu. He isn't very impressive", he declared, tilting his head in thought. Peter actually reminded him a bit of one of his brothers, with his light brown hair and muddy-green eyes. He looked like a cheeky one - he had seen some of that kind back on Esa, when he had stalked Dalmer. Nice enough, but Kraglin had made him always look like **more** in his stories. Must had exaggerated then. At least it was funny how he started to splutter and bicker with Yondu.

* * *

 **December 14th, 2008**

The Temple

"Have you heard?"  
"Heard what?"  
"They say Harry's dead. They sent him to Esa and he was caught up in some kind of fight."  
"Huh."

The two teenagers continued their walk. They never noticed the pair of electric-blue eyes staring after them in growing despair.

* * *

 **Words:** 4819


	4. Tough Little Boys

**AN:  
Oh boy, Peter's going all Guardian on us now. Beware the Fluff. Enjoy!**

Tough Little Boys - Gary Allan

* * *

 **August 20th, 2014**

The Eclector

He should have known better than going away for such a long time, despite the good payment the job had brought him (even after Yondu, great pain that he was, took most of it). Being quite literally on the other side of the galaxy, Harry had heard of the rumours about the Guardians more than a standart week after the whole shebang happened, cruising along the Peredian Nebula with a couple of other crew members to find a stolen artefact and the head of the thief. Luckily he was already on his way home, though the planned vacation on Lem, craddle planet of the same named race, had to be chanceled. Because **of course** that stupid title 'Star-Lord' came up, and as the groups leader no less. Guardians of the Galaxy Harrys arse.

So it was quite understandable for the young man to arrive at the Eclector, proud flagship of Yondus Ravager clan, in a rather foul mood. Those members old enough to remember the young, serious boy Kraglin had brought onto the ship some six years ago, took a moment to mourn their leaders decision to take on the role as foster parent. Other crew members simply stood aside, vividly remembering every time someone thought to mock the pretty boy only to get his arse handed to him. Not that anyone had taken notice of the fighting abilities of the boy any time soon, what with Kraglin and the captain watching the crew members like hawks, making sure that any attempts at seriously harming the boy were smothered right at the beginning. Around two months after Harrys arrival however someone thought it funny to threaten the boy in an attempt to frighten him. The unfortunate Jovian succeeded, rattling the youngling bad enough to cause him to use his innert magic, sending the man to the floor only half his size. After his initial shock, the boy had used the opportunity right in front of him and swiftly beaten the now smaller attacker right into the sickbay, where he had to wait for several hours until the bit of accidential magic dissolved completely, making it possible to take care of his wounds. His dignity however never really recovered from it. They still called him Dwarf instead of Big Jim, his hitherto moniker.

The realisation that they now had a potent magic user on the ship not only did wonders to Harrys reputation and value but surprised both Kraglin and Yondu. While the occassional sorcerer was known here and there, who had learned multidimensional energy manipulation, or Eldritch Magic, natural magic users were quite a rarity even in space. There were a lot of theories about the origins of those born mages which contradicted each other more often than not, but most people agreed on the fact that those born with the 'gift' all came from planets with a magical core, the known of those fantastically rare and insanely secure. For an abductee to come from one of those planets was nearly never heard of. And said abductee was right among uncouth mercenaries. Sadly, Harry still didn't know where he came from, and because most pre-contact planets were named after some variation of Dirt or Home, noone was any wiser after him providing the name he knew.

That said, nowadays Harry was even without his magic a formidable fighter, and a dirty one, having learned not only in the Temple, but later also from both Yondu and Peter who knew no shame when it came to the sacred art of fistfights.

It came to no surprise then that the once smallish boy had grown into a well formed young man. He wore his black, unruly hair cut short, just shy of being a buzz cut, putting on display his strong jaw, high cheekbones, bottle-green eyes and the jagged, lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Despite the lingering gangliness of youth his continued physical training showed in his muscled body which was clad in the typical Ravager fashion - sturdy leather, with the trousers a dark, dirty grey and the jacket the colour of slightly dried, human blood. Proudly displayed on his chest was the yellowish flame of the Ravager syndicate. He knew very well of their status as exiled, but it still got him into places. It was also the crest those precious few crew members he considered friends and family wore, which put the symbol into Harrys favour.

"Why the fuck is everybody and their grandma talking about Peter being some kind of saviour of Xandar?" was his loving greeting when he reached the bridge. He heard a few people snicker but ignored them, concentrating solely on the blue skinned Centaurian who lounged on his captain seat, playing with an ugly little doll that Harry was sure belonged to Peter, his quite idiotic brother in all but blood.

"Harry! Of course I'm doing great, thanks for asking!" The reply was no surprise, nor the heavy sarcasm in Yondus voice when he turned around in his seat, waving with the ugly thing. Harry snorted and moved closer to the man. Immediately said mans hand came up and made grabbing motions. The mage rolled his eyes, but gave in and slapped a chip into the hand. "Greedy bastard. Now tell me." There was some lingering fondness in his voice, mixed with unhidden annoyance that made Yondu laugh.

"Sure thing. You remember the deal we had with Broker? Fuckin' Quill got to the orb and made to sell it for himself, but got into loads of trouble while at it. Little shit was caught and made some interesting friends, all the while painting a target the size of a star on his back. Long story short, that orb was some kind of weapon and that Kree pisser Ronan got his hands on it. Attacked Xandar immediately, of course, and Quill got nothing else to do than try and stop him."

For a long moment, Harry could not help himself and stared at Yondu, who was interestingly enough looking quite smug, if not proud. Not that many of the other Ravagers shared that feeling, and Harry could guess why. "Is that the reason why we are missing a third of the M's and a good lot of men?", he asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose and sinking into a seat next to the Centaurian who was busying himself with checking the amount of units on the chip Harry had given him.

"'course. Quill couldn't find his own arse with a map and both hands, and I wanted that orb back badly."

"So you sold it?"

The small shift in Yondus posture told Harry all he needed to know and he groaned. "I swear, you are the worst. Both of you. I don't even know why I'm still here, parting with fucking seventy-five percent of my haul. Am I the only one to actually bring some units back?" The captain narrowed his eyes in a familiar fashion. Peter had the same look when he was about to spout nonsense.

"Don't you talk to me like that, ya hear me? I could have thrown you out all the time, or sell you to the highest bidder, but out of the gracious of my heart I took you in after saving your sorry arse! Show some respect, runt!" It was the same speech he always made when Harry started to talk back to him, which happened quite often. It was the same bickering Yondu did with Peter, with played anger and a lot of exasperated fondness. And like always, Harry was completely and utterly unimpressed - ever since he had heard a similar speech delivered to a drunk 'Star-Lord', he had recognized the words for the token of affection that they were.

"Bullshit. You kept me because you knew that I would have fried your ship had you tried to sell me. Don't even deny that you fear my might as much as you love me, you stupid prig", the young man called him out in his usual manner, feeling his temper about Peters insanity dropping already. Instead his frown he gave the captain a cheeky grin before he pulled out a small token out of his pocket. "And I bring you souvenirs, unlike Mister 'Star-Lord'."

* * *

 **A snippet from the past (Five and a half years ago)  
** The Eclector

There had been many fights between himself and his crew when it came to the boy, too, especially after it was clear that he was a mage. Some wanted to kill him, fearing what a kid with unknown powers might be up to. Others wanted to sell him away - the Collector himself paid a high price for magical specimen, they said. Most of them accused Yondu to be too soft. He had already brought Quill into the fold, and there should be no reason to again raise a kid on the Eclector of all places. Despite all this, Yondu enforced his will, often through sheer volume, but some times with his trusty arrow. He knew very well what kind of thugs he had onboard, and that he had to show strenght to get them to obey him. It helped that the boy in question was not the useless lump his men accused him of being - someone had trained him well enough to take care of himself. He also knew how to fight well for his age.

It was, to be honest, all kinds of worrying **how** well the boy could hold himself against a single adult.

Once or twice, he had talked with Kraglin about it. His first mate would always retell him how he had met the boy, and for what crime Harry had been in jail, and over the time Yondu started to believe that the kid had killed a fucking Chief Deputy. Not that Harry would have had that many chances in a fair fight, mind you, but the worlds outside the Core planets were rarely fair at all. No, it had been an assassination, swift and surprising for the poor chap, and someone had trained Harry to do this. And from early on, too, judging the smooth movements of the boy and his good handle on close-combat weapons.

Combat was one of the few things Yondu could use to get Harry interested in him, and so the captain shamelessly used his considerable skill with long range weapons. He would never say it out aloud, but the times when Peter was still a kid, still eager to learn from the Centaurian, where the times he missed the most. Nowadays Peter was too busy playing adult with his first own M-ship, taking on as many odd jobs as he could to get away from the Eclector and explore the galaxy on his own. Thankfully he had Harry now to concentrate on and part his wisdom to, even if the boy failed to be too impressed by the foul mouthed man. Thank the gods that he knew the magic words no lad could resist, otherwise he would never see even a hair of the boy with the way Kraglin and (if he as there) Peter hogged him. It grated on Yondu greatly that most of the boys affection was still reserved for Kraglin, despite being on the ship for half a year now. Case in point were a couple of little baubles Harry formed out of pieces and bits of metal and glass, scavenged on the ship and using both his magic and his clever little hands and which he gave to Kraglin **every** time the idiot came back from a job to the Eclector.

"Go get ready, runt. I'm gonna take ya down for some shooting practice."

With the Eclector in orbit of a relatively small, uninhabited planet, the crew had many opportunities for shore leave, and most used this chance to go on a hunting trip or to practice their weapons on the helpless fauna and flora. Aureon-S-34 was one of many 'wild' planets that lacked any of the more interesting ressources for the galaxy to take notice of it. A couple hours later the captain and his charge had left a good chunk of the small, sturdy trees with smoking holes of different sizes in their trunks, and some spots of the musky ground had been torn open by grenades. Yondu was taking a break, watching Harry making stuff float. He often did this when they were off the ship, with both smallish hands up in the air, moving left and right and in circles and burnt chunks of wood following his every movement, face scrunched up in concentration.

He was never really sure what to think of this magic thing. It wasn't anything he had ever seen from Krugarr, the Lem sorcerer from his previous clan. There, every spell was made from burning lines in the air, meticulously drawn. Here he could see nothing but the movement itself. Which the boy only needed if he wanted to make more than one thing float.

"Did they take you because you're a mage?"

He watched the boy flinching a bit, and all but one pieces fell back to the floor with a dull thud. He had a few theories - it's different than with Peter. There he had taken the boy, but the loss of his mother had made it easier to connect with him. Harry was not quite broken, but he had come close to it and that always left its marks. Yondu was not there when Kraglin bonded with the boy and won his trust. The short trips helped a bit, but he wasn't the most patient man. When Harry didn't answer, the captain put away the flask from which he had been drinking and sat up from his lazy position against one of the trees.

"I was a Kree slave when I was a kid. Got treated pretty shitty, but that's what they did back then. I was a bit older than you when someone came to save my sorry arse. Havn't left the Ravagers since, even when I got exiled." Bottle-green eyes moved to look at him, and the last piece of wood landed, albeit far more gentle than his counterparts. He seemed to hesitate a bit, watching Yondu for a long while before looking away again.

"They kept me for my magic. I thought I would die, but they thought me useful." There was this sceptic look again, paired with rigidly crossed arms. "Am I useful to you?"

It pained the soft part of Yondus heart, like it always did when he saw children in situations they had no rights to be in. He still smiled, showing his sharp, crooked teeth and barked out a laugh. "Useful? Fuckin' hell no! Ya eat like an adult without working like one." His answer lacked the sharpness he shows to Peter when they indulge in banter. He did threw the closed flask to Harry all the same though. "Let's see how useful you are when you've grown a bit, half-pint." There was confusion on the little mages face, who had catched the flask with his hands, but then it smoothed out and he gave a tentative smile back. That vanished rather quickly when he took a sip from the alcohol Yondu had given him, making him cough and wheeze while the captain desolved in raucous laughter.

Later Yondu went out for a week, leaving the Eclector to his first mate while earning some money. When he got back, there was a shiny little bauble waiting for him.

* * *

 **August 20th, 2014  
** The Eclector

He was toying with the little, shiny trinket that Harry had brought him this time. It became a tradition of sorts, slightly changed since the young mage had started to work with them, too. Nowadays, whoever was out for a job would bring some kind of souvenir for the others - Harry preferred to work on whatever pretty material he got his hands on, forming small baubles with the help of his magic which he gifted freely to both Yondu and Kraglin, and sometimes to Peter, too. The Centaurian had a whole shelf in his quarters full of these things. The young man lounging on the chair next to him was still pondering about the stupidity his brother displayed on a regular basis, and how he had somehow managed to get known throughout xandarian governed space as a hero.

"He could have chosen **any** other name. And now it's too damn late. Star-Lord. Who the fuck calls himself Star-Lord?"

"Because Warlock is so much better?"

He guffawed when Harry stretched his body to kick Yondus shin, flipping him off. "What about those friends of him that he made through the whole stint? You have met them, you said?" The young man crossed his ankles and tilted his head in a curious manner. There was still a hint of annoyance in his voice, though. For a moment, Yondu wondered what the boy would have done had he been there during the mess. Probably helped Quill before kicking him in the balls.

"Just as messed up as Peter, I swear. There was this Drax guy, stupid as they come but ridiculously strong, and some rodent named Rocket. He was actually not as bad. Then there was this tree, but he got blown up or something when Ronans ship crashed, and this green chick named Gamora, feisty girl that..." Harry gasped at that point, sitting up straight, causing his sturdy boots to scrape over the metal floor of the bridge. Yondu narrowed his eyes a bit when he saw how pale he had become.

"Did you say Gamora? Green skin, red hair, black eyes?" Yes, the boy definitely knew her. Yondu cocked his head to the side when he remembered some rumours he had heard about her. Then his eyes widened and he sat up to, casting a glance around.

"Yes. It's **that** Gamora, isn't it?"

He hadn't remembered back when he had met the girl, but with Harrys reaction it was clear that she was the same one from the boys vague stories. Almost two years ago, he had approached Yondu to talk about his childhood - really talk, not just hinting at things. Of course Kraglin had already known most of the stuff back then, but he understood why Harry wanted to play safe with the captain of a Ravager clan. At first he had had a hard time believing the boy. His time at the place he called the Temple, the training and the things he had to do...

The Titan was somewhat of a fairy tale gone wrong in most parts of this galaxy. Though most historians treated his name as a common fact, he lived just far enough outside of the Core and the Edge that he is believed to be a front for some other kind of organisation, dealing mostly with assassinations and terrorists. The Black Order was well known, of course - a group of overpowered individuals, reigning war on whole planets, talking about their Master and Father as if he was a god. Thanos Children, on the other hand, were more obscure. Right now, only a handful of assassins were known under that name, and Gamora was one of them, also known as the deadliest woman as she was not only a skilled assassin, but also a formidable fighter.

After Harry had told him nearly everything (for he could tell there were still a few things unsaid), Yondu had sat there for a while. It had been a difficult decision to make - keep Harry, and he would have to deal with people who were known to be absolutely deadly. Throw him out, and he would never forgive himself.

Looking back at the pale young man, he couldn't quite bring himself to regret his decision. More than twenty years ago he couldn't bring himself to hand out Peter, and two years ago he made the same call with Harry. It was his soft heart, wanting to keep both his boys safe. "You look like a fish out of water. Go get yourself something to drink, laddie - I happen to know that Krags is in the mess hall right now." He hoped that his first mate would be able to calm the boy down before he fried his ship. Watching Harry walking away, still slightly shaken, he shook his head, quietly cursing his oldest, because of course out of all the galaxies people, Peter would find someone linked to Harrys  
not so rosy past.

* * *

 **Words:** 3437


	5. He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother

**AN:  
** **It's kinda like a family reunion. Just way messier. Enjoy!**

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother - The Hollies

Beta in this chapter: **EssayOfThoughts**

* * *

 **January 12th, 2015  
** Sokovia, Europe, Earth

The room was located underground, as was a big part of the facility. It was brightly lit and comfortable enough for the two people living here for the last year. They were both young adults, one man and one woman, similar in both age and looks and yet with striking differences. The woman had long, curly brown hair and dark grey eyes that sometimes flashed in an ominous red. The man had silver hair and a short beard, and his eyes were of a lighter grey with a silver edge.

"Are you ready?"

Wanda Maximoff looked up into her brothers - Pietro's - eyes. They sat in the middle of the room on the tiled floor, their hands intertwined between them. She nods, watching the silver in her brother's eyes with a worried frown before her own eyes changed their colour, concentration chasing the worry away. She felt herself falling into the depths of his mind, scarlet streaks dancing from her fingertips and curling around his wrists. Deeper and deeper, watching well known memories and thoughts and fears racing each other in his head, and she gently took hold of them, slowing them down, prying the fears away until they were not as prominent anymore.

It took some time, this practice of theirs. It helped, but it was always unclear (and really not important) who helped whom the most. The silver edge in Pietro's eyes slowly melted away and it both relieved her and broke her heart. His hands clenched around her fingers when she let go of his mind. It had taken only half an hour this time, and she smiled about that. "How does it feel?" Her voice was soft as she stroked his hands that had stopped shaking a couple minutes ago.

Like everything is normal again," he said. His thumb brushes over her wrist, anchoring. "Thank you." They smiled slightly, hands tight around one another's hands. She could do it, She had no other choice - it was, after all, for Pietro. She would keep him here with her, no matter what was to come.

* * *

 **February 3rd, 2015  
** The Milano

The lights were dimmed on the small bridge of the Milano. His crew mates, his friends, were already asleep in their respective quarters, so the music he listened to (Moonage Daydream by David Bowie) played quietly in the background instead of the loud holler he prefered and which sometimes made it difficult to understand each other. In front of him, just behind the reinforced transparent aluminium plates, was the endless universe like an explosion of vibrant colours, bright stars and velvet black. He had never been too much of an artistic soul himself, but this he loved dearly about his life in space. Everywhere you looked was beauty and life and adventure. And money, too.

A small beeping noise catched his intention, and with a smile he touched the screen left from him after the caller had been identified. In front of him a bigger screen flickered on, showing another person who was dear to him but currently not on the Milano.

"Hey, imp."

Harrys scowl, three times the usual size and in high definition, was a sight to behold. Despite the lack of crooked teeth, red eyes, blue skin and general ugliness, the young man looked just like Yondu when he did that. "Fuck you, Quill. No presents for Star-Lords." Peters smile grew into a full grin and he winked at the boy, lounging back into his seat and propping up his feet onto the consoles.

"You would have to actually meet up with me to bring me any presents, short stuff. How's it going?"

"As usual, though money is a bit hard to come by nowadays. You ruined our stellar reputation." It was delivered with a wink and a not-so-serious voice, so Peter was relatively sure that Harry joked. The first couple of months after Ronan and the Orb had been rather awkward between the two men - Harry had been upset with him, especially when it became clear that Peter would not come back or even so much as talk to anyone besides the mage. Funny enough, the young man vehemently refused to do the same with his team mates, which in turn had angered Peter. The few calls between them had involved a lot of shouting and Harry cutting off the video feed the moment someone else would enter the bridge, so that only his scathing remarks had been heard.

It had taken both of them time to calm down afterwards. Harry had taken to call him whenever he was out of the Eclector, doing a job. He was working hard now, to get his own ship (and that was so unfair, Peter only got his ship when he was close to thirty!). The young man also became more lax when it came to avoiding his team mates - with the very obvious exception of Gamora. Peter wasn't sure how the mage did this - twice already, Rocket had managed to crash a call, joining their conversation. Drax too had the chance to greet Peters brother in all but blood, but wasn't too interested in the end. Groot had a sixth sense, really - five times the little guy ran into a call when he was supposed to sleep. Since he had outgrown his pot he had enjoyed his independend mobility a bit too much.

Gamora however never managed to catch Peter and Harry. And she was trying, Peter knew. It drove he mad, which was kind of hilarious - one of the reasons Peter did as Harry had asked him and deleted his ID after every call, just to make it harder for Gamora to investigate the mysterious Ravager brother everyone was talking about. It wasn't even very important stuff they would discuss. It was always a how do you do first, an exchange of what had happened since the last call, funny stories worth telling the other, curious rumours they had heard, mixed deliberately with little quips and fond insults after the anger and frustration had been cleared. The only thing that still hung between them (not that Peter would mention it again, not yet anyway) was Gamora. It really vexed him, because she was also the reason why he had yet to make Harry visit him.

"Come on, imp. I know you want it. I know it. It's awesome here, and the guys want to meet you too." He knew his voice sounded whiny, but if that was what it took to make Harry say yes, then he would do it. His pride was flexible like that. It was all for nothing though, as Harry was shaking his head as usual.

"One day you really ought to tell me what it is about Gamora that has you running. She's lovely, Harry. In a really deady way, but lovely." A snort was at first the only answer he got, paired with a roll of bottle-green eyes.

"Every person with tits is lovely for you, Quill, that's no argument. And sure that she can be really nice, but it's personal. You know her background." Of course he knew. It has never been a secret that Gamora had been part of this Children of Thanos group. He had even seen one of her 'sisters', Nebula. Peter shook his head and cleared his throat.

"She won't kill you. I mean, she hadn't killed me yet, right?" He smiled winningly at an unimpressed looking Harry. "And if I was to visit **you**? Not on the Eclector", he hurried to add. He had seen the eager look on his brothers face. Just like Peter, Harry was always trying to bait him back to the flagship, promising to blackmail Yondu into not only allowing this, but also not to kill Peter. "Just me and you, somewhere neutral, and a few drinks. I miss you, you know?"

Something changed on Harrys face, and Peter got the impression that his words had hit home for the mage. The young man shifted a bit in his position, before he leaned forward, eyes wide open. "And the others? Don't you miss the Ravagers, too?" Peter faltered for a moment. Harrys eyes had always been a mystery for him - they looked real enough, but how implants could convey thoughts and emotions so good, he would never know. It made him feel that there was more to this question than he could perceive. He wouldn't be able to lie to Harry.

"Just the family."

It was the right thing to say. Harry smiled and the sight made Peter grin in response. "It's a date then, Quill. Oh, you are paying, by the way."

"Hell no!"

* * *

 **April 17th, 2015  
** The Downfall

"...and then he basically jumped the guy and punched him square in the face. He then got beaten by the friends of the dude, so I had to help him a bit. It got only worse from there, because some drunken bastards thought it funny to join in. And Peter was horrible, I tried to pull him out but he wanted to 'finish' it. Can't go out for a drink, that one. Oh, but he sends his regards. He won't remember probably, but he was so drunk that he spilled some beans."

Kraglin laughed and tried to lean forward. He and Harry were sitting in the small bridge of a M-ship - a gift from Yondu. Well, mostly a gift. Turned out that the captain had saved a bit from each job Harry had done to get him his ship a bit early. The boy still had to pay a huge chunk himself, but the ship was as good as new, with sharp paintings in a brigtht yellow and a deep turquois. The inside was still a bit bare (Harry was poor enough as it was after buying the ship and had to save up some units for custom leather seats and interior), but it was nice enough. Kraglin could see how proud Harry was to own the 'Downfall'. Most Ravagers were when they got their own ship. Harry was a proper adult now. "Don't be a tease, laddie, what did he say?"

"That he really misses us both, but mostly the old man." Harrys smile was sharp and full of mirth and both took their time to snicker. While most of their crew mates were still furious about Quills 'treachery', they knew exactly that the Centaurian was not nearly as put out as he looked. Yondu was very fond of those he considered family, the big softie, and Kraglin knew that the captain would be insufferable when Harry, too, would flee the nest.

"Nothing I didn't know before. Tho', hearing it out of his mouth must've had been nice." He shook his head while typing in some coordinates into the system. They had somewhat of a journey ahead of them. Some people to catch, some bounties to earn. Yondu wanted to go back to the Iron Lotus, but Harry was loathe to visit **that** planet again, and Kraglin didn't feel like it, so they had opted out of the visit. "Who would you miss the most?", Kraglin suddenly wanted to know and he squinted slyly towards the young man next to him, who snorted.

"Gee, Krags, no worries. I was always a mamas boy, Yondu has no chance." His laughter didn't stop when Kraglin slapped his head.

* * *

 **April 23th, 2015  
** Sokovia, Europe, Earth

The moment the bullets hit Pietro, Wanda knew. It was like a light flickering inside of her which had, until now, always been bright and warm and **steady**. She hesitated, bewildered and frightened, but then the light, small now and vulnerable, flickered again and she knew something is wrong, wrong, **wrong**. She began to run, following the suddenly brittle connection she shared with her brother, until she skittered around the edge of a building and saw his silver hair and his prone body, tinted with red. Barton kneeled beside him, holding a little boy in one arm and trying to stem the flow of the blood that exited Pietro's chest.

She felt like she had been the on getting shot, with too little air in her lungs, hands balled into tight fists. The Red surged forward, eager to come out and play, and she let go of it, already searching for the one who had hurt the only person she had left in the world. It has always been just Pietro and her - back when her family got killed in a war she had nothing to do with, later when Hydra had them in their clutches and they had been given their knew powers. She couldn't remember how often she had been in Pietro's head, both for her own practice and to ground him in a world that moved to slow for him ever since he first ran at speeds that seemed so impossible. He was her anchor when she thought she would get lost in the Red, and she was his anchor, slowing him down until he could bear living again. She would not lose him today and whoever had tried to take him would die.

It was almost easy, destroying Ultron's main body. She wanted to destroy all of him, but she was far too aware of Pietros flickering light. This, the others had to finish. She was needed at her brother's side, whose wounds had been dressed as well as the archer had been able to. Not too much time has gone by, and she was there when Barton tried to carry his brother towards the waiting Helicarrier. "Don't," she said. To his credit the archer seemed to understand, letting go of Pietro to focus on the boy. The Red's anger had been spent on Ultron and now it was gentle, calm, and carried her brother to the safety of the sickbay of SHIELD's Helicarrier. She knew that, outside, her hometown was rising higher and higher, that there was still a fight going on, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. He was her brother. She had to see to it he got the help he needed before she could go back outside.

When it was over and Ultron dead (always, always reaching out for the trembling connection that had always been so strong and now was so fickle), Wanda went back to the sickbay. She sat herself in front of the operating room on one of the uncomfortable benches and waited, her whole body rigid. It felt like hours until the light finally stabilised, slowly growing stronger again. It was then the first tears started to fall, the first choking cries gripping her hands as tightly as she would her brother's in relief. Pietro would live. They would not lose each other. She would not lose herself.

When Vision came and offered to stay until she could go in and see Pietro, she hesitated before accepting. She didn't quite know what would happen next - for such a long time, she had thrown herself into the hatred and desire for vengeance, Pietro right beside her. It had been the only way to survive.

But now... vengeance meant less, now. Tony Stark knew his errors. She had made her own. Pietro - her brother - had almost been torn from her. But this was a start, with her brother alive and she not alone.

It was better than any revenge she could get.

* * *

 **April 27th, 2015  
** The Eclector

"I got it. Let's hurry."

He would never let any of his family members out of his eyes, Harry thought idly while making his way from the captains quarters towards the cell block. On his shoulder sat, of all people, Groot, clad in a tiny Ravagers overall. They had found him in front of the quarters, trying to steal Yondus new fin.

Not only had there been a mutiny led by no other than fucking **Taserface** , it had been **successful** no less. And now everyone was dead. Fisheye, ol' Dunken, even that stupid fuck Dwarfy. Nearly half the crew had been killed, thrown out of the Eclector. A light bulb exploded next to him, making Kraglin flinch a bit.

"Won't help no one when you fry the ship before we make it, laddie", he hissed and Harry tried to relax a bit. He had toyed around with his magic during his trip with Kraglin, so he was not too much on edge. But anger and fright and frustration still made it risky for him to be on a ship. Especially light fixtures and terminals tended to break when that happened.

They made it quickly back to the cells. Groot hopped down from Harrys shoulder, eager to get back to, of course, Rocket. Who sat in the same cell as Yondu. Because the mutineers were fucking idiots and they still succeeded, because he had been away. "I **will** scream at you all when this is all over", he declared. Yondu oggles at him, then at Kraglin. The first mate had his plasma rifle in his hands. Harry himself had a pistol on him, but also his trusty spear unit and blood splatters running up his left arm. When Krags and he had arrived, they had been noticed by a few and hoped that the bodies had not been found by now.

"That's nice and all, but the important question is if you have copies of Quills music?" Three pairs of eyes settled on the rodent of the group who was already fiddling with the fin Harry had squeezed through the bars.

Not half an hour later, still jamming to 'Come a Little Bit Closer' on repeat, they were all watching the remnants of the Eclector exploding to smithereens. Only the Quadrant was left, piloted by Yondu, Rocket and Kraglin. For some reasons, Groot had clung to Harry when the young man hurried to the Downfall to save at least his own M-ship. "Fuckin' Taserface", he could hear Yondus voice through the comms. "Most of me trinkets were still in the quarters. I would kill him again alone for that."

Harry couldn't help himself and snorted. "I can always make new ones. A whole mountain of trinkets."

"Deal."

* * *

 **April 30th, 2015  
** Ego

Gamora glanced at the young man beside her. A sleek helmet that covered his head and eyes with dark metal and shadowed glass only let her see his strong jaw and the slightly chapped lips, but she knew who he was. Rocket had already told her that this was the famous Harry, with whom Peter not only chattered on a regular basis, but who had also met up with her captain. And grew up, from some of the stories Peter had told his friends, before Harry decided to become a secret that she was not privy to. The helmet grated on her - the moment Rocket had called out to her the young man had put the helmet on as if to hide his face. He had looked quite shaken at first seeing her, but a lot of people still reacted this way. She had killed too many in Fathers name, and as far as she knew, he too was an orphan.

"So, how are we gonna blow this thing up then?" They were all seated inside the laser drill unit of the Quadrant, everything that had remained from the once proud Eclector. It was a rather tight fit, with Peter and Yondu at the flight console and the others cramped behind them. After Rocket, Groot, Harry and Yondu had crashed into the palace just in time to rescue Peter and the other Guardians from Egos wrath, they had quickly descended into the heart of the planet, where Egos brain rested. The minig lasers currently focussed on the hard rocks of the core however where clearly not strong enough to put more than a few scratches on it. Harry leant forward, his arms playfully thrown around Yondus shoulders, and peered onto the target - or at least Gamora thought he did that. The tinted glass pane of his helmet didn't allow to look too closely at his eyes or other features.

"Rocket, you still got these Anulax Batteries you nicked from the Sovereigns?" Peters voice sounded... almost happy, despite what had happened just a couple of minutes before in the palace. It might have been the talk he had with Yondu, and which everyone besides the two pretended had never happened, but Gamora bet that the presence of his brother also played a big part in his current mood. Egos part in his mothers death had been a hard pill to swallow, but she was glad that those Ravagers soothed the pain somewhat for her captain and denied any kind of jealousy she felt. Again her eyes fell onto the mysterious Harry, who was now talking shop with Rocket who showed him the batteries. He had been careful, when they had piled into the drill unit, not to stand too close to her or Nebula, but when he was forced to speak directly to either of the women, there was no hatred or obvious fear in his voice.

Which meant she still couldn't decide why he never showed his face in front of **her** when he had done so with all the other Guardians.

Her thoughts were disrupted when a voice came from the comm. "Boss, Sovereigns incoming!" The voice (another Ravager, who had stayed at the Quadrant) barely finished his warning when the drone fleet descended onto them, already locked onto their target. Chaos broke out, but through the shouting and movement of bodies Gamora saw Peter climbing out of his seat just when one of the heavier shots hit the scuttle of the small ship, blasting away the hinges. When Peter jumped out, his blasters in his hands and the helmet arranging around his face, she didn't hesitate but jumped after him.

Down on the rough surface of the jagged rocks around the core she could see that most of the group had followed Peter, who was already shooting back at the golden drones with Harry on his side. Rocket and Groot were hurrying towards the core, and Drax and Mantis, the young empathic woman who had until recently lived and worked for Ego, where taking shelter, with Mantis trying to sooth the planets wrath. Her main focus however was on Peter and his brother and the way they fought together. Peter was obviously the better shooter, and had, with his rocket boots, more mobility than his brother. Harry seemed more inclined to Melee, but bound to the ground there was not much to do against the drones. Instead, he decided to shield Peter, following him swiftly and occassionally pointing his palms at the firing drones. She was too far away to make out what kind of weapon he used to produce these shockwaves, but it proved to be effective against the Sovereigns.

It was when Gamora tried to make her way towards them that she saw a couple of drones turning around to shoot the two from behind. Where before the Zehoberei had tried to carefully avoid the many, many shots the Sovereign where peppering them in, she now started to run straight towards her goal, screaming a warning and hoping that her voice would be heard. And then there was light and a blast that threw her off her feet when hundreds of small lasers focussed onto the drones and overloaded. And with them, the drill unit.

Everything happened so fast afterwards. She saw Nebula landing somewhere above and Yondu more slowly to where Peter and Harry where, gripping hard on his weapon of choice, his famous arrow. But she also saw Drax clinging to Mantis, who had been thrown around so hard that she was bleeding now. Rocket and Groot were nowhere to be seen, and while the golden drones of the Sovereigns dropped dead like flies, the planet itself awoke from the slumber Mantis had put it in, a mass of pure, terrible energy screaming in rage and betrayal.

Somehow, they got out of that nightmare cave, towards where the Quadrant was waiting for them. She almost stayed behind, to help Peter, but the man had told her to go. More so, he had told Harry to force her if neccessary. His brother had been so rigid as if he was fighting his own urge to stay, but complied. They made it just in time, the ground already crumbling beneath them when the ship took off.

"Where the fuck is Yondu?"

* * *

 **April 30th, 2015  
** The Quadrant

"Harry, don't!" If it hadn't been Kraglin holding him back when he was just about to jump off the ship and back onto the collapsing planet, he would have lashed out. Even now he was clinging onto the edge of the still open bay port, watching the explosions and giant shockwaves wreaking havoc through the yellowish tint of the energy field that protected the atmosphere of the cargo bay, leaning forward as far as he could with the restraining hands on his shoulders. His gaze was fixed onto the spot where just a minute ago there had been the opening to Egos core. Where Yondu and Peter should have been coming out, like they promised.

"Yondu! **Yondu! Peter!** " His screams were hoarse in his panic, his heart beating too fast. He ripped off his helmet, uncaring of who would see his bottle-green eyes or his short black hair or his jagged scar on his forehead. There were other voices in the background, but they were not important right now. Nothing was except the hands on his shoulders and his remaining family **dying** right below him. His magic acted up, but he didn't react to the scared screams when light bulbs exploded and wires started to smoke - he hastily took the swirling, raging energy inside of him and **pulled** as hard as he could between his erratic breaths. It hurt badly it was so heavy. Kraglins hands grounded him, but it still hurt so, so much, and yet he pulled again, harder this time. A deep, burning ache filled his body and for a moment, everything went dark for him. Then there was a deafening crack ringing through the air of the cargo bay, and the ache dwindled down into a hurt so small it could be ignored. And ignoring it was what he did, because there was the sound of **two** bodies landing harshly onto the floor of the bay right behind him.

"Fuck", he said, in chorus with Kraglin. And then he was right next to them, Yondu hardly breathing at all and Peter crying and panicking but alive and healthy. He didn't notice the way that the other Guardians looked at him in obvious shock and fear, or how Nebula perched up, black gaze calculating. The only thing he did was clinging onto the man who had raised him after he had been almost broken, chanting his pleads for Yondu to survive, to please breath, to not die and feeling Peter doing just the same right next to him and Kraglin shouting at Rocket to go get the emergency med pack **asap**.

He didn't notice a lot of things in the next hours. Only the warmth of Peter beside him, the slightly shaking hand of Kraglin on his shoulder, and the steady breathing of a man he would never call his father, but wished with all his heart that he could one day. Alive. They were all alive.

His sisters questions could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

 **Words:** 4616

I decided to show some of the stuff that is going on on earth. The scenes we see here include the Maximoff siblings and a small change I did to the end of Age of Ultron. Yes, Pietro lives. He will serve a purpose later on.

Big thanks to **EssayOfThoughts** who has helped me decide on this.


	6. Who Are You, Really? (Part 1)

**AN: A lot of conversations. It's time for a talk. I am actually a bit ashamed of all the fluff. Enjoy!**

Who Are You, Really - Mikky Ekko

 **AN: Sorry for the wait. I had some problems with this chapter and most parts had been rewritten a few times.**

* * *

 **May 1st, 2015**  
Sickbay, The Quadrant

He woke up to the soft humming of a ship in motion and the feeling of a hard matress under his aching body. Filtered air, heavy with the scent of sweat and burn hair, filled his lungs. For a moment he was back above that thrice damned planet, craddling Peters face between his hands and knowing that both his boys would live, yet sure that he wouldn't.

He had been wrong.

Eyes closed for a second, he was taking in a deep breath to get a feel for his body. He was in the sickbay of what was left of his ship. Had they reached them in time? A damn risky thing to do, coming back into the danger zone of an imploding planet just to save his hide. Yet he was here, and for that, Yondu felt thankful. A sound of rustling clothing made him look to his left and the Centaurian had to bite back a snort. Lying on the dirty floor, limbs haphazardly entangled, were his boys. A few blankets had been thrown on the floor, though Harry had been smart enough to use his brother as an additional matress, his face pressed into the nook of Peters neck.

"Idiots", he croaked fondly, leaning back again into his own pillow.

"I couldn't agree more." The voice was not unknown, but neither was it overly familiar. Female, smooth, a bit tired. It lacked the singular anger of the blue chick, and when he looked to his right it was indeed Gamora. He tensed when he noticed her eyes on Harry. "Do you remember what had happened then?" He shook his head and tried for a crooked smile.

"Nah. Passed out before ya got to me. How did ya get the ship out of the event zone?" He was curious about that - while a small body like Peter would have no problems to escape, what with his jetpack, the Quadrant was a big ship, a full third of the size of the destroyed Eclector. Gamoras gaze locked onto him, a serious frown on her pretty face, before she sighed. It made him feel nervous, this sigh, because she didn't look like that was what had happened. Sure enough, she was yet again looking straight at the two men on the floor. Especially on Harry.

"We didn't came for you. There was no time for that. He brought you back." She nodded towards the dark haired man who was curled up half on top of Peter. Yondus stomach sunk - he knew that Harry had never wanted Gamora to know about him. He was not stupid - it was no secret to him that the mage had called Peter several times after the idiot had joined his new friends, and that the young man had always been careful to avoid his sister.

"Did he now, huh." It was a somewhat lame try, but he was still feeling a bit out of it. Probably some medicine pumped into his system to patch up his lungs.

"Yes, he did." The green skinned woman crossed her long legs, watching him intently. "And I think you know how. Burnt a few things while he was at it. Light fixtures. Wires. Programs. It would be rather hard to miss that one of the crew is a true born mage."

"So what about it? It's none of your business, that's what it is. Didn't hurt ya or the others, now did he?" The memory of nearly loosing Peter came to his mind when he struggled to sit himself up. His red eyes flashed, piercing Gamora with a stare. "Now drop the act and tell me what ya want."

To her credit, she didn't even bat her eyes at his hissed words. Her frown became thoughtful, before she shook her head. "I don't want anything from you, Yondu Udonta. And I don't want to harm him. I am sorry if I made that impression." He did noticed the softer look in her eyes, the same kernel of warmth that he had seen in Harrys face when he had still been a young boy. It had grown over the years under the dubious care of the Ravagers. Breathing in, he finally managed to sit himself straight up, leaning against the wall. She continued a couple of moments later, hesitating now. "He somehow teleported both you and Peter back into the cargo bay. He blacked out for a moment afterwards, and since then he mostly slept. That is, after it was clear that you would make it. It was a very close call."

Immediately, Yondu looked back towards his boys. As if sensing his gaze, Harry moved a bit from his current position, allowing the Centaurian to get a proper look on the far too pale face of the young man. He looked sickly, with shadows under his closed eyes and a stressed frown on his brow. "He never did that before. I am surprised he didn't blow up the ship. Idiot boy."

"He did damage the ship. At least everything in his vicinity that runs on electricity. The main engines are fine, as well as life support. Rocket and Nebula both think that whatever energy he gives off doesn't harm plasma powered tech. We are lucky that our implants have standart radiation shielding." Gamora shuddered a bit, grasping her left wrist with her right hand. Yondu nodded, feeling quite stunted. He remembered how, just a couple of years ago, Kraglin had voted for the update to the plasma engines. It hadn't been necessary - since most parts of the known universe was connected through affixed wormholes, also known as jump points, the main engine of space ships only had to be strong enough for comfortable travel between planets. Plasma based engines were certainly faster than the more common pulse engines, which were run on both electricity and fuel, but they were expensive. Same went with life support. But it made special shielding against space radiation unnecessary and hunting down targets easier, which was why Yondu had approved the update.

He was suddenly feeling very greatful towards Kraglin.

The awkward silence was broken by a soft curse, and both Yondu and Gamora looked to where Harry and Peter were sleeping. The latter had woken and was trying to move from under his still sleeping burden without waking Harry up. It took some time and effort, but he stood up at least, looking a bit ruffled and groggy. It soon turned into a brilliant smile when he saw that Yondu was awake. Gamora let out a small sigh and stood up, but she smiled too, touching Peters arm when she walked by.

"I will let you two alone for a bit. But we will talk later, Peter."

"Uh... sure thing." He sounded uncertain and a bit worried while looking after the woman as she left the room, but he shook it off and seated himself on the chair Gamora had abandoned. When the door closed behind her, he leaned back, breathed out a huff and focussed on Yondu, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"She's your girl then?" He didn't like the look on Peters face. It was entirely too sappy, a mix of goofy happiness and anger, of all things. His little attempt of distracting the man sadly didn't work - he only got a shrug before the Guardian crossed his arms and got all serious looking, all traces of sleepiness gone.

"Not important right now. What the hell were you thinking?" It was not quite a hiss, but he was trying to keep it down. Down on the floor, Harry shifted again, searching for the lost warmth of his brother. That helped calming Peter down. Far too emotional, the boy. "Sacrificing yourself like that. Of all the stupid things..."

"It worked, didn't it?" The Centaurian was quick to interrupt what was becoming a rant, leaning back into the pillows. He was feeling annoyed and touched and embarrassed. Mostly the latter. He hadn't thought about the consequences of surviving the stunt, but now he had to face an irritated young man. Two, he feared, when Harry woke up. "Sure, couldn't have known about the boy learning some new skill that quick. Still, it worked. No need to get worked up so much." His dismissive tone only fueled the frustration of his eldest, who scooted closer to the bed on his chair. The happiness was gone now. In this, Peter was like Harry - both tried to play it cool most of the times, but the moment that mask broke down, their emotions went wild. Yondu refused to compare them to himself or the way Peters irritation quickly made him snappish. That he blamed on the medicine.

"You tried to die on me, Yondu."  
"Well, I only had one suit on me."  
"And I was supposed to just watch you kick it?"  
"There wasn't anything else I could have done!"  
"You could have saved yourself!"  
"That's so not right!"

It was not like most of their arguments, where a lot was easy banter. This was heating up all too quickly, with Peter leaning forward, stupidly stubborn like always, and Yondu himself sitting riggid on his bed, red eyes narrowed. "Listen to me, now!", he says, voice louder than intended. He didn't notice Harry stirring again, nor did Peter. "'tis not right, me savin' myself when you are in trouble! I'm not like Ego, sacrificing my children left, right and center, ya hear me? You and Harry are mine, whatever you runts call me, and there ain't no decent parent who wants their children drop dead before 'em!" At the end, he was nearly screaming it, feeling out of his depth and frustrated with this confrontation. When he had given Peter his space suit component, he had prepared himself to die there and then, and he had been glad not to deal with the fallout. It got his hackles up, making him feel all defensive, and somewhere deep down he knew Peter was the same. While both boys had ever changing emotions, at least Harry had learnt from Kraglin that it was good and healthy to deal with them. Peter on the other hand had taken more after the captain himself.

And because he knew this, that he and Peter were so similar when it came to emotional baggage, it came as a big surprise when the Guardian faltered visibly when Yondu laid open claim to him. He shook his head, almost as in denial, but in the end took a deep breath. No, that wasn't how Yondu would have reacted. How a year in different company could change a man. It made the captain both proud and sad, watching his adoptive son struggle with his words.

"And no kid wants to see his parents die. I already lost my mom, Yondu. How am I supposed to deal with this, almost loosing my dad, too?" It was like a punch to the gut, only nicer. And warmer. But shocking all the same. Just like Yondu had never really laid any verbal claim to his boys, both Peter and Harry had never laid any claim to him. And while Harry had tried to show his affection to Kraglin, Yondu and Peter, the latter had, for years now, concentrated all of his affections on Harry. Yondu knew that was because the Ravagers had been the ones to kidnapp him from his home planet, forcing him to a live in space. It was easier to love ones saviours, after all.

This, however, was real. And it felt good. It felt right. It felt ten different kinds of embarrassing, and the red tinge on Peters cheeks showed that the Terran felt the same.

"You are an idiot, Peter." He said it roughly, but not without affection, and when Peter looked up, he smiled a bit. He knew that they wouldn't talk about this again any time soon. Later, maybe, in a couple of weeks or months or, hopefully, never. But they didn't have to talk about these things twice. Once was bad enough in Yondus books, despite the cosy warm feelings in his guts. He watched Peter and saw the affectionate spark in his eyes before his face morphed from sadness into a playful scowl.

"Don't call me idiot, geezer. Or you won't get any presents." It sounded so like Harry that Yondu couldn't help but laugh at this. Thankfully, neither their previous shouting match nor their banter woke up the young male. "I mean it. I have something for you. Rocket brought it with him."

"Will it get the Sovereigns on our asses again?" Yondu was quick to respond, arching an eyebrow, but feeling relieved all the same. They were both not made for serious talks, after all. He craned his neck a bit when Peter started rummaging through his pockets until he retrieved something long, thin and golden in colour. It was his Yaka Arrow, with burn marks on the thicker end, the diodes burnt out. The tip, however, was still intact, and he was quick to grab it.

"I thought it was burried where the damn planet fell on us." Damaged, but not fully broken. He would be able to repair it. Just like himself, Yondu thought with a quick grin.

"He grabbed it when you got out from under the rubble, but he had forgotten to give it back to you before they evacuated. Had to nick it from him, he loves stuff like that." Peter snickered and stood up, throwing another glance at his still sleeping brother. "I'm glad he did what he did to us. Felt like being squeezed in half, but..." Yondu was glad when Peter cut himself off. He put the Arrow away, under his pillow, and nodded once.

"Me too." Peter hesitated and looked long and hard at the Centaurian.

"You can stay, you know that, right? All three of you. Kraglin told us a bit about what happened when they worked on you here. With the clan. My team won't mind. As long as you need and all."

The captain couldn't help himself and felt touched by the offer. For the last year, Peter had done everything to avoid Yondu and his crew members, mostly because of the way they had parted even before Xandar. He hummed and gave Peter a nod. "I will think about it. Might be better for our Harry here."

The smile on Peters face was totally worth it. 

* * *

**May 1st , 2015  
** Cargo Bay, The Quadrant

She walked the whole length of the damaged cargo bay, feeling like a caged animal. She wanted to go - the company on the ship was too stressful for the Luphomoid woman, with her sister and him being here. Him, the mage, the young man who had such a likeness to one of her many brothers. One that had been lost. Many years ago, she hadn't really cared. Her hatred for the Titan was a recent one, when she had truly understood what has been done to her and to many others. Back then, when the revelation had come to her, she found herself being glad about each and every potential assassin that had ended up dead. One less to kill.

Gamora and Harry and her, they were one of the very few that had made it out of that hell still alive.

She stopped, again, in the middle of the bay, starring at the ship that was mocking her. The last of the M-ships of this Ravager clan, the Downfall refused to open for her. Such a simple thing, a DNA lock. It was bound to the plasma engines the ship had, and had been changed into a device that did not open with the right DNA (she had snatched some samples, hair and blood, from the sleeping young man the prior day), but with something else. The Milano, Quill's ship (and Gamora's, who had chosen to life with the half Terran and his ragbag team of former thieves and criminals, and she didn't feel betrayed by that, she didn't), has been lost when the planet imploded. Same with the drill unit, which she could have used, but she herself had helped blowing it up, overriding the system to get rid of the Sovereigns. No, there was no way out as long as she was unable to hack the Downfalls system.

"Nebula." It came to no surprise that her sister called out to her. Gamora was, if anything, a bit late to search Nebula out - the Quadrant was big, sure, but not too big for the former assassin to find her target fast enough. "You should rest."

The woman gave a short snort, finally turning around to meet Gamoras worried face. She had always been too soft - but then most of them had been, and Gamora had hardened herself enough to survive. "I should already be gone. And yet here I am." Nebula didn't need to force the snark into her voice. The stress and the anger always came easy, as if her mostly fabricated body could no longer handle the emotions properly. The thought made her want to laugh and cry and scream, but she swallowed her urges down, balling her hands into tight, strong fists.

"You know you can stay, right?" The soft tones of her sisters voice didn't help her restless mind. She shook her head, turning away again to look at the Downfall. There had to be a way to take the ship, to hack into its systems and claim it as her own.

"I can't, and you know it. I don't fit in, I helped with the mutiny of your captains former crew, and now he's here? And even if I am as welcome as you think, I do not wish to throw away valuable time!" The ship is closer now - she hadn't realised that she had walked towards it with every hissed word. It seemed to taunt her, reminding her of the man just a couple of rooms away. The mage with the bottle-green eyes and the scar on his forehead. She remembered him, of course - his status alone had drawn many of the siblings towards the boy, watching him fight. Average, at most - good in contrast to his other surviving age peers. He had been... no, he was a son of the Titan. The thought was like a persistent itch right under her artificial skin. "I have to go. You may have carved yourself a pretty little life here, but I only have one goal."

"And what will that be? Revenge?"

"It's all I have left, isn't it?" Finally - Gamora hesitated, and Nebula felt a quite triumph in her chest. The burning guilt and loneliness right beside it were squashed down and ignored. She had always been alone. She would manage a few months more until she could fight the monster that had unmade her with delight. When the hand touched her shoulder, she flinched back, nearly hitting Gamora in her surprise, but the green skinned woman was just as strong and fast as her sister, dodging the fist and holding onto her.

"That is not true, and you know it well enough, Nebula! You still have me, you still have a sister!" Her mouth went dry when she looked gaze with the dark, burning eyes of the last Zehoberei. She had never quite forgotten the warm spark that her sister has kept alive through their tortuous youth, but to see that the spark had grown into this passionate fire, a fire warm enough to share it... She shuddered, closing her eyes, trying to deny the longing in her for company. For anything. But most of all, for her sister she had pretended to hate for far too long. "And now we have one of our brothers back." Gamoras voice is soft again, a mere whisper. Her thumbs pressed into Nebulas shoulders.

"What do you want me to do then? Just let Thanos live?"

"I want you to wait until we both can speak to Harry. I want you to at least try and join us, even if it is only for a little while. You need to rest, to gather your strength. When we reach the port and you still want to go your way, I will give you my blessing, I promise." Nebula shook her head, but it was a weak gesture. She was tired and restless and frustrated, and while half of her wanted to snap Gamoras neck, the other half felt ready to weep under her touch and gentle words. For now, the latter won out. She didn't weep, nodded with a weary sigh.

"Until the next port then. But do not hope like a fool, Gamora. You picked that up from your Terran." Now the strength to push Gamora away from her came. One, two steps away from her sister followed before Nebula could breath again. She didn't dare hope for herself. This warmth would kill her, or worse: Could make her give up on her goal.

She tried to ignore Gamoras smile. Later, when her sister is gone again, she even tried to believe all was well. 

* * *

**Words:** 3553

It came to my attention that some readers are not entirely content with the lack of magical aptitude Harry possesses. Please keep in mind that everything he does at this point of the story is wandless magic and learned purely through trial and error (read: Stressing himself out until something happens, then trying to replicate it without blowing things up). Neither Thanos nor Yondu know shit about true born mages, and while Harry might be able to learn Eldritch Magic (as we know it from Doctor Strange), I never intend to let him.

That said, here is a list of magic we see him perform:

\- Rudimentary transfiguration (Changing the properties and altering the form of base materials, changing colours etc)  
\- Levitation of objects  
\- A variation of Depulso (Banishing Charm) that Harry uses to either blast people away or to divert projectiles  
\- A variation of Accio (Summoning Charm) that works like a reverse apparition when we first see it

Other 'spells' will, of course, follow. Please keep in mind that he will eventually come into contact with Hogwarts finest. His magic is his 'edge' in the mundane world - when with wizards, his edge will be his learned skills that have nothing to do with magic.

In this fic there are only TWO kinds of magic: Eldritch Magic, the manipulation of energies from other dimensions, and 'true' magic, the rare kind which one has to be born. In theory, everyone can learn Eldritch Magic, but 'true' magic cannot be learned if you are not born with the ability. Most planets in Asgardian territory do produce mages, but outside of it, they are incredible rare.

Powers gained through mutations (Mutants etc.) are NOT considered magic. Except for Scarlet Witch there will be no Mutants or Mutates that have, according to the comics, magical abilities. There won't be much about Mutants at all in this story. I try to stay within the MCU.


	7. Who Are You, Really? (Part 2)

**AN: Second Part of all the talks. Enjoy!**

Who Are You, Really - Mikky Ekko

* * *

 **May 2nd, 2015  
** Sickbay, The Quadrant

He woke with a small gasp on his lips - it had been years since his nightmares had been vivid enough to interrupt his sleep. He felt dizzy and disoriented and the image of Yondus lifeless corpse lying on the cold floor of the cargo bay was still lingering behind his eyelids. He didn't dare close his eyes, even though they were aching fiercely in the dim lights of what had to be the emergency medbay of the Quadrant. It didn't matter that much to him, anyway - his whole body ached, yet it was a far cry from the burning sensation he had felt right after he had summoned Yondu and Peter. For a moment he had hopes that the pain would help distract him from the terrible feeling of dread and the taste of fear that his dream had evoked in him, but even after sucking in some dry air his hands still shook and his forehead was clammy with cold, sticky sweat. Him forcing his eyes to stay open, trying to breathe in slowly... it didn't help at all to calm his erratic heart.

It wasn't until Harry heard the rustle of fabric next and slightly above to him that he became more aware of his surroundings - namely that he was lying on the hard floor of the room, and that he was not alone. It took him another couple of seconds to register the blue skin and the vivid red eyes sleepily blinking down at him, so very much alive.

He forgot about his aches or the way his limbs felt weak and exhausted when he struggled to get up and onto the cot. The bed was much too small and he much too old, really, but right now all he wanted was to be close to Yondu, to touch him and make sure that his dream had only been a dream, that the Centaurian was truly alright and wasn't dying on him. The captain let him; he merely opened his own arms when the younger man scooted close and laid down his head on the broad chest to listen to the sound of the man breathing and to feel his warmth. Yondu didn't even complain as he was wont to do, back when Harry had been younger and the nightmares frequent and horrible, making him search for the comfort and safety of Yondu or Kraglin. The captain only grunted softly when Harry hugged him a bit too tightly, but even then he didn't chastise him for doing so.

"Nightmare?" His voice is husky, even more so than it normally was, and the man sounded sleepy but content. It was a good sound for Yondu, Harry mused, relaxing his grip.

"Yeah. About you dying." He saw no reason to lie to his captain, who commented this with a low grunt. A hand came up, curling around the back of Harry's head, carding through the short, black hair before coming to a halt on his neck. Yondu was waiting for Harry to continue - he was nice like that, sometimes. When it was important, when Harry needed him to be. "I was too late, and I brought you up with Peter, but you were already dead. Suffocation." The fingers on the back of his neck pressed into his skin - Centaurians had a slightly higher body temperature, so they felt hot against Harrys own, chilled skin. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensation, reminding himself that Yondu was alive and well and holding him, going nowhere. It helped to chase the images away, but it was slow, hard work.

"Shitty dreams, I reckon. You should know that I'm kinda hard to get rid off." There was a rumble in Yondus chest, like a laughter that was trapped inside. The young mage shifted slightly in his position to squint upwards at Yondus face - the man was grinning, showing off his crooked and sharp teeth. Somewhat in that smile and the worry in Yondus bloody red eyes put Harry in ease and a tense knot undid itself in his chest.

"Gee, of course you are, like those really tenacious stains on Peters ship...", Harry drawled as an answer in good humour. The scandalized frown on the Captain's face, mixed with the feelings of relief, was enough to make him laugh. Not just a snort, but outright laughter. He threw his head back and clung to Yondu. Harry was not sure when his laughter turned into sobs, his face pressed into the side of Yondu's neck, or when the Centaurian had the time to wrap both his arms around his charge.

"Now, 's alright, yeah? I'm here and you're here and Peter is here and Krags' here." It was a mantra for him, a low murmur that repeated itself ever so often. He was good like that, knowing what the ball of dread had been made of that Harry was now releasing. The tiredness and exhaustion he felt made this even harder for both of them - it made Harry into a messy cryer, with plenty of tears and snot, trembling and gasping for air. His eyes soon were red and swollen, but he didn't care how ugly he was right now. He just wanted to get it out of his system, all the fear and worry and dread and downright panic, and bask in the feeling of his family being close and whole again.

It took a couple of minutes for the storm to blew over, and when it did, he finally stopped crying like a baby or a damsel would do. "Shit, sorry", he said hoarsely before trying to rub the snot away that still clung to Yondu's skin. Both men winced a bit.

"Had to come out at some time, eh? And here I was thinkin' you were already too old for that, kiddo." That earned Yondu a half-hearted slap, and even that one was far too weak. The little outburst had drained him more than Harry had thought possible, but his energy levels had been low since he woke up. The drowsiness that came with the exhaustion made it hard for him, but Harry wiggled and struggled until he found a seating position on the small cot, without either him or Yondu falling out. The next couple of seconds where filled with eye rubbing and yawning and trying to shake himself awake again. It was an impossible endeavour and had the captain shake his head at him.

"You better sleep again, Har. Tomorrow's bound to be stressful for you." He lightly slapped Harry's hand when the young man was again rubbing his swollen eyes. "I mean it. We have time, Harry. Peter wants us to stay. And I am content with healing up for the next couple of days, as long as he feels guilty enough to bring me food."

It took him a couple of moments to work through the words - already he felt himself slipping away. Yondu wasn't helping him, the bastard, pulling him close again. He couldn't do more than blink a few times, though, peering up to the blue-skinned man that tried to find a comfortable spot on the narrow cot that was much too small for two grown men. "Can't", he huffed and gave up on staying awake, closing his eyes in defeat. "Y'know, what with Gamora and all..."

"Fuck Gamora", came the cheerful response, just as a calloused hand started to ruffle his short hair. "She already knows. I think you threw away your helmet when you pulled me onto the ship." Had Harry been fully awake, he would have panicked. Even now, he was vaguely aware that this wasn't good news for him, but he was already half asleep and honestly, he couldn't care less. "And if she wants to give you grief, I'm gonna kill her myself, so don't worry 'bout it, kiddo."

* * *

 **May 4th, 2015  
** Bridge, The Quadrant

The flight towards the next port that would accept a ship from the Ravagers (especially the exiled clan that they were, decimated in numbers or not) was a long and tedious one. Egos planet had been somewhat removed from the popular places Kraglin prefered, so they had to travel a lot of clicks, and the Quadrant itself was just broken enough to make things difficult. As if that wasn't enough, Peter and his ilk wasn't sure if the Sovereigns had given up on their hunt for the Guardians, so they had kept their eyes peeled for them, too.

They had already travelled for almost three standard days, and while both Peter and Yondu were already up and about, Harry kept on sleeping. According to the captain, who had to extract himself from the clinging mage just a day ago to take a piss and get himself something to eat, the kid had woken up during the night cycle of the Quadrant to take over the cot and terrorize the poor Centaurian. Kraglin knew from experience that that had meant nightmares, but when he had checked on Harry, he had looked rather peaceful, drooling all over the small pillow and sprawled across the cot.

Peter was steering the Quadrant right now, chatting to one of his friends, the little furry one named Rocket. He was easy to talk to, at least for Kraglin who was used to volatile men since joining the Ravagers, so he sat nearby in the bridge, his feet kicked up and enjoying both the conversation about advanced weaponry and the fact that he wouldn't be sitting in Peters place for the next couple of hours. He roughly knew where the other crew members were - Mantis, the empathic female, was bound to be in one of the quarters with Groot. The young Flora Colossus demanded a lot of attention as far as Kraglin knew. And where Mantis went, Drax was likely to go with her. Nebula, creep that she was, mostly stayed in the cargo bay, eying Harry's Downfall and sulking. Gamora was always walking around, though, harder to pinpoint her location. Sometimes she was with Gamora, checking on her sister. Sometimes, she would sit down with Peter on the bridge or take over for a couple of hours before growing restless again and visiting Harry. She had been to see him just half an hour ago - a quick check of the monitoring cameras showed her talking to Mantis and Drax, cradling baby Groot in her hands. The little tyke was often a great help for the Guardian crew to relieve stress. Kraglin had asked Peter about it, but the brat had just shrugged.

Like Gamora, his captain was hard to track, too. One would think that the guy will stay in his cot, but from the moment he was able to walk again without keeling over, Yondu was prowling the ship like a wheezing old cat - Peters words, not his. He was nearly back to normal health, too - only his lungs still gave him problems, but a quick visit to one of the medic stations at the port would help with that, too.

All in all, they were in pretty good shape. The ship needed quite a few repairs (and some updates, too - Kraglin was keen on getting a plasma tech overhaul for the minor systems for the Quadrant) and most of the crew nursed a couple injuries that needed more treatment than painkillers and the liberal use of mending spray, but they were alive and able to move around and on their way to friendlier places...

His musings were interrupted quite rudely when the door to the bridge opened up. Before Kraglin could check who it was - he hoped for Gamora, only to have something nice to look at -, Peter practically jumped out of his seat. Rocket cursed and grabbed the steering rod - there was not a lot of steering to do when going through wormholes, but between the jumps, it was better to keep the right direction, lest you ended up somewhere else than planned. "For fuck's sake, Quill!", the racoon shouted, his whiskers vibrating in shock, beady eyes widened. The former Ravager ignored him - he was grinning rather stupidly, and when Kraglin finally turned around, he too felt his mouth forming into a smile.

"Harry!" The name rings loudly through the bridge, and with just a few steps Peter is right next to the young, green-eyed man who still looked rather drowsy, yet a lot better than two days ago. His skin had a healthy colour to it, the dark bags under his eyes returned to their natural hue (a light shadow, indicating a less than healthy lifestyle) and his posture is relaxed and happy, as far as Kraglin can tell. And the smile is alright, too - a cocky smirk, the left side of his mouth slightly higher than the right.

"Peter." He returns the hug eagerly and maybe a bit longer than was normal, but Kraglin couldn't begrudge them the contact. He himself felt the itch to gather Harry in his arms and hold him close, lest the stupid boy finds more trouble. "Worried much?"

"Of course I did, idiot." Harry snorted, but there was a smile on his lips as he pushed past Peter and made his way towards Kraglin, greeting the still ruffled Rocket as he did so. The weapon specialist snarled at Peter when he went back to his seat, which caused the mage to laugh merciless at his brother's expense.

"Hey, Krags." The young man throws himself into an unoccupied seat close to his friend and somewhat-parent, the crooked smile morphing into something warm and fond. The Ravager responded with a smile of his own before he reached forward and patted a leather-clad knee.

"You doing okay?" He didn't bother to hide the lingering worry in his voice. The sleep had been unnatural in its length, and even after Mantis' declaration that it was caused by exhaustion only it had been somewhat stressful. Now that he saw the mage awake again he felt himself relax further into his seat.

"Uh-hu. Quite good even." Kraglin noticed how Harry's jaw tightened for a second, but he didn't comment on it. It was not a full lie, more a half-truth, and the quick look towards Peter told the Ravager more than enough. Peter had caught it too, and both he and Kraglin shared a knowing glance. They knew something was up, but while Peter could only make some educated guesses, Kraglin knew without a doubt what this was about. He cleared his throat and gave Peter another look, this time a prompting one. It wasn't something Harry would miss - the young man tensed a bit, narrowing his eyes. "What? What did I miss?"

"Hey, I don't even know what this is about!" Peter blurted out, fast to push the blame away from himself, and pointed towards Kraglin, who refused to look apologetic. "Just that Gamora wants to talk to you, and that Krags here and Yondu are very weird about it." He hesitated for a moment, confused about the face Harry was making. Both relieved, probably because neither Ravager had talked to Peter about this matter, and irritated. There was also annoyance, panic and anticipation mixed in his expression, and like a thousand times before Kraglin asked himself how artificial eyes could ever be so expressive.

"Should be alright", he said hurriedly when the annoyance started to win out on his charges face. He held his hands up before reaching out again, this time to place a hand on Harry's shoulder. The young man was tense, but Kraglin had anticipated that. "She was lookin' very eager, see, and Yondu said that she visited you when you were asleep. They talked a bit, those two, and he hasn't killed her yet, right?"

"And why should he want to kill her?" Of course, Peter was fast to defend his teammate. Rocket, too, was looking up from the consoles with a scowl on his furry face.

"I ain't sayin' that he wants to kill her, Pete. Relax, would ya?", Kraglin snapped. He didn't stop watching Harry, who looked troubled now before sighing.

"You sure?" His voice was smaller than he was used to. Kraglin was sure that that shut Peter up more efficiently than his own warning.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. I can see where she's at, if you want."

Harry hesitated for a long moment. And then... "Fuck it." He breathed out, still annoyed and worried, but he sounded determined. "Call her up, would you? And... and Nebula, too. We do it right here and right now. I'm tired of this shit, and she's Peters girl now." He sank back into his seat, shrugging off Kraglins hand but not without a small smile. The Ravager nodded once and turned around towards his screens, tipping away. "You can stay too. Kraglin and Yondu already know about this, so you ought to hear it too."

"Hear what? The reason why you hid from Gamora?" Rocket was still concentrating on navigating the ship towards the next jump point. It was a small jump, ending in a solar system that was void of civilization, and the racoon quickly steered the Quadrant out of the path leading towards the next fixed wormhole before turning around. It was clear that he was more than just curious as his ears twitched eagerly towards Harry and Kraglin. "Because that drove us all crazy, to be honest. She tried more than once to catch our captain's mysterious brother after I told her 'bout you."

"It's... related." It was easy to see how uncomfortable Harry was with the topic, and Kraglin almost pitied the boy. Almost. He was rather glad that Harry had decided to play with open cards, especially because the three Ravagers had been invited to travel with the Guardians. And Kraglin was very keen to spend more time with both of his boys. He was also little surprised about the fact that he had quickly started to trust Peters crew, but there were only a few things in the universe that could bind people together as fast saving the galaxy together.

* * *

 **May 4th, 2015  
** Bridge, The Quadrant

Despite his previously shown bravado he felt himself becoming increasingly nervous. It had been a short-lived thing, his courage to finally meet Gamora again. Since contacting Peter after he had run away from the Ravagers, Harry had done his best to avoid his sister out of suspicion and fear, but also because he felt a lingering guilt for running away himself, all those years ago. He never regretted his decision to join the Ravagers, yet he never truly forgave himself for leaving his other siblings alone in the Temple while he was living and thriving with his new family.

But Peters tense confusion, as well as Rockets curious looks and above all Kraglins steadfast presence kept him from running away like a coward. It would have been useless, too - she had already seen him without a mask, and without doubt talked with Yondu about him. He was thankful that Kraglin had told him as much - he trusted his makeshift family more than he had ever thought, trusted them with his life and welfare. They wouldn't let her hurt him should she turn out to be still loyal towards father, to still serve the cause.

When the door to the bridge opened again, he grasped for his fleeting courage and turned around in his seat to face the two women who entered the room, and for a short moment, he couldn't breathe. Oh, he had already seen both of them during the fight against Ego, but his mask had been firmly in place, shielding him from most of his anxiety. Now his face was on display and nothing hindered Gamora to lock eyes with him. She looked surprised, and as nervous as he felt, which did a lot to calm his own nerves. Nebula, on the other hand, took on a hostile expression. If it hadn't been for a kernel of insecurity in her big, black eyes, he would have bolted out. Luckily, most of her hostility was directed towards Peter, Rocket and Kraglin, the latter who simply raised his eyebrows while lounging in his own seat next to the security feeds.

"I told them to stay." He was proud of himself, for keeping his voice steady. He couldn't hope to fix his own expression, but at least he was able to control his voice. "Peter and Kraglin are family for me, and Rocket is for you, isn't he?" He had decided to concentrate on Gamora for the time being, who nodded in acceptance despite the scoff from Nebula. But she, too, did not complain about it beyond a fierce scowl and the folding of her arms.

They looked so different, despite leading such similar lives. But they already had been different back in the temple. Gamora, as beautiful as she was deadly, with the hidden warmth in her eyes, and Nebula, cold and cruel and yet rebellious in the end. He had never thought that either would ever fail father, yet here they were, three traitorous siblings far away from a place that has never been home.

"Their presence will not be a problem. And depending on how this talk will end, my other teammates will likely be informed, too." She, too, sounded calm despite the circumstances. She took one of the remaining seats that were dotted around the bridges different terminals, a tad awkward for a proper conversation as they were arranged in a loose U-formation. It would have to do, though, as Harry felt no inclination to further delay his confrontation with his sisters. He corrected his own posture to face her proper, noticing that Nebula too shifted to stand next to Gamora without taking a seat. Of all the people on the bridge, she was the most anxious, he realized. And felt instantly calmer. "So it's true then. You are family, yes?"

And there it was. She was quite blunt with her question, but Harry couldn't be angry with it. He actually felt himself approving of this direct question - no useless chit-chat, no talking around the topic. He still flinched a little bit, like Nebula did, but he forced himself to breathe in and out and nodded slowly, his eyes firmly fixed on both his sisters to gauge their reaction. Next to him, he heard Peter sputter in confusion.

"Wait, what? What is going on, guys?" He sounded so confused and out of his depth that Harry took pity on him, leaning forward a bit to catch his eyes.

"They are my sisters, Pete", he said, voice quiet and serious, trying to explain without too many words. Peter looked startled and raised his eyebrows. A silent question for more information that made Harry sigh. "You remember when we met?" Here, Peter nodded, movements still slow as he tried to understand. Interestingly, it was Rocket who got it first and who looked sharply at Harry, who smiled painfully.

"I was already with the Ravagers for a couple of weeks. Kraglin told you, Peter, how he busted me out of jail back then... actually, he didn't know anything about this until far later. Yondu only knows for about two years." He stopped there, grimacing a bit, but kept on talking before someone else could. "Years before that, I was abducted from my home planet. I was maybe five years old when that happened. On the way through the Edge, towards some kind of slave port, the smugglers got attacked. By Chitauri."

Both Gamora and Nebula had their faces carefully under control - Nebula better than her sister, who showed a touch of pity right before her face smoothed out. Kraglin, too, was relatively calm, while Rocket only nodded to himself, as if his guess had been confirmed. Peter, however, was aghast, sucking in a sharp breath, and finally, finally he made the connection. "You are a Child, too?"

"Yes." Harry leaned back again, his jaw set and his eyes hard. "Yes, I am. I ran away when I had the chance, and Kraglin helped me. Which was why I decided to stay with the Ravagers who busted me out. I couldn't risk for Gamora to see me." He didn't apologize, but he did look at Gamora then and was relieved when he only found acceptance in her eyes. "When I left, she was still in Father's service, as was Nebula. So I avoided her whenever we talked to each other. I would still avoid both of you." This was addressed at both women - Nebula looked rather grim, but not hostile anymore. "But you saw me and asked about me. And you both risked your life on that planet."

"I am not blaming you for your suspicion, Harry. And I am glad that you fled from Father when you had the chance. Be sure that I will not betray your trust, no matter how reluctant it is given. I have long kept my distance from Fathers ideals, but I only found the strength to cut my ties when I met my friends." And there was the warmth in her eyes, growing from a small kernel into a bright flame when she laid her eyes on Harry's brother. The shocked expression melted away from his face and he smiled at her. Harry knew, then, that his brother had truly found somewhere to belong. Deciding to trust his sister, the mage turned towards the other one, meeting her black eyes with new found courage. He was surprised to find acknowledgement there, even though she visibly hesitated before speaking up.

"I have sworn to kill him. As long as you will not get in the way of my revenge, I will tell no one that Father's precious mage is not yet dead, but alive and well." Her words are clipped and sharp and her eyes held their own kind of fire in them. It was not warm, but cold and fierce and true, and Harry remembered the days in which he had pitied her the most from all his siblings, because she had endured the most, had survived so much. Her vow, however, startled him, for it was so very similar to his own, the secret and promise of the brothers. For a just a moment he had the sudden urge to tell her about his own vow, about the secret he had been given, but he fought it down. Nebula, he knew, would not react well to know that she had the wrong gender to kill the Titan.

Nonetheless, Harry nodded his acceptance and felt a wry smile forming on his lips. He suddenly felt hysterically giddy and he had to keep his arms in check, lest he started hugging himself. The smile stretched into a big grin, however, and with a new gleam in his eyes he looked from Gamora to Nebula to Peter. "You know that this makes Gamora your sister too, yes?" The affronted and panicked look on Peters' face was so much better than the contemplating, shocked one, that Harry gave a bark of laughter. And if it was a bit too sharp and breathless, no one pointed it out. And with Nebula in the room, that was a lot of kindness.

"I have sisters again." The grin was still not gone, and after a moment, Gamora smiled too, gentle and warm and with the same insecurities that he felt. Nebula was scowling, but there, too, was insecurity in it. Peter, blessed idiot that he was, was still sputtering about Harrys joke and made use of the moment of happy reunion by reaching across Kraglin to smack Harry's head soundly.

* * *

 **May 5th, 2015  
** Cargo Bay, The Quadrant

"Say, sister, you won't happen to know about some of my age peers?"

It was a weird feeling, to be accepted not only by her sister, but also by a young man that she had only known as a boy. Back at the Temple, there were a lot of Children that had envied him for his magic and the attention he drew from Father because of it, but Nebula himself had only felt loathing for another potent weapon, for another boy who would become loyal to Fathers cause. She, too, had been surprised by his mission failure. She, too, had thought him dead. And she had been glad for it, had celebrated the loss of another mindless minion. That he had rejected the Titan even then was a shock for the woman. How many others were traitors, brothers and sisters she had never thought much about? How many others had thought the same about her, had thought her loyal? Gamora had proven to be a traitor too, and so had Harry.

"Most of them died in the years following your escape. The one called Azazel survived, and the one called Nuri." Were those two traitors too? It was hard to trust any of them. The Temple caused them all to be careful, to hide emotions and thoughts within the own mind. From the corner of her eye she saw Harry working on one of the repulsors of his ship. Tomorrow they would finally reach the port to repair the Quadrant, and she still had to decide whether to leave or to stay. The port would hold many private ships, it would be easy to steal any of them and make her way towards revenge. Maybe it was for the best - she didn't trust the warm, fuzzy feeling in her gut when she thought of her siblings, nor the offer Gamora had made her a couple of days ago.

"Nuri went on to follow Gamoras footsteps when I last saw her about two years ago. Quite skilled, but not the talent that our sister is. Your brother Azalel however..." Ah. She hadn't imagined the tense shoulders or the guilty look on Harry's face. The tells were visible for the trained eye, and he showed them whenever she mentioned his brother.

"What happened to Azalel?" What he lacked in control of his body, he had mastered with his voice, which was steady and only hinted at curiosity. Maybe Gamora would train him better, now that the Ravagers were staying with the Guardians.

"They made him a weapon after he broke." She didn't care to banish the anger from her voice. It was better than showing sadness. He had always reminded her of herself - too weak to avoid the Table, too strong to break under the strain. She knew she was fractured, so much that she wondered what hold her sanity together. Azalel had been the same for so long, but then he had been broken just a day before Harry had been sent to Esa. She eyed her brother speculatively and saw grief and more guilt and anger. So much anger. "But even with his mind shattered, they still found a use for his body. He is worse than me in that department, more metal than flesh, and sent him to kill. He was good, as long as he had a handler. You can imagine our surprise when he managed to escape for himself."

The mage snapped back to attention, turning his head so fast it had to be unhealthy. His eyes were wide, and there was a vicious hope in them. "He fled?", he asked, the tool in his hand as forgotten as his work on the wing.

"Oh, yes. Killed more than a dozen guards and four other children. Father had been occupied with some other plan, and a large part of his Chitauri army had been sent away to attack some backwater planet called Terra. Azalel used that distraction for his escape and stole a ship. He was fast and precise, like it was planned, and he got rid of his locators and the ship before the Other could catch him again."

"So he is out there." It was little more than a breath, but the smile he sent her was wide and gleeful and so, so brilliant. The warm, fuzzy feeling came back with a vengeance and she shuddered in disgust about herself, turning away. Still, she could not withhold the last tidbit of information she had to offer.

"Have I told you about how the Other got killed last year?"

When Gamora came to look for them, she was surprised to hear raucous laughter from the Bay.


	8. Time Waits For No One

**AN: We already know how it was meant to be. Here we see how it went instead. I experimented a bit with the composition, too.**

Time Waits For No One - The Rolling Stones

* * *

 **February 19th, 2002**  
Headmasters Office, Hogwarts

It was already dark in the north of the isle, the vast grounds surrounding the ancient castle only illuminated by the warm light of the hundreds of windows that dotted the grey stone walls. Dinner has been served already, and the Headmaster of the school sat contently behind his large, claw-footed desk working on a small pile of paperwork. There were always many things to do - letters had to be read and answered, budgets had to be approved of, reports from his Head of Houses and other teachers waited for him.

Still, he was content with his work. Since the war ended some four years ago (not counting the many trials which lasted another one and a half year after Voldemorts 'death'), the Headmaster had allowed himself to mellow out, to once again be the grandfatherly old men that doted on his students. His teachers too had settled into a more peaceful life. Even young Severus had healed a good measure and would soon be ready to take over as Head of House Slytherin. Already Horace was planning his retired life, animatedly talking about whom to visit and what to do. The responsibility of taking care of a House would do wonders with Severus, Albus was sure of it.

He had just finished an answer for the Minister - he would have to remind Cornelius that he should make his own decisions **again** \- when a soft tinkling noise caught his attention. With barely a thought the many candles and lamps of his office brightened up until he could see a spindly, silver device right next to the entrance. It was of an intricate design, the material stretched thinly in elegant loops and knots, surrounding a small, rose gold globe that shivered and bobbed seemingly without any support in its silvery cage. The surface of the globe rippled like liquid water, and with each movement, it tinkled a bit more.

Albus frowned, watching the device carefully. He was used to a little tinkling of it, and in the beginning, he was quite worried about it until Arabella, bless her, told him that the cousin was a strong-willed lad. Alas, little boys were known for roughhousing, and he put his worry aside. Only once had the device tinkled eagerly like that. Last year, when little Harry had fallen down the stairs and broken his arm. He suppressed the urge to check on him as he had done before. Instead, he stood up to floo Arabella. It was not too late of a day for her to see if Harry needed any help beyond what the muggle healers could provide.

Before he made it to the brightly lit fireplace, a sharp, metallic screech filled the room, and the rose gold globe rippled so strongly that it deformed into various distressing shapes. Sudden dread filled his mind, but he did not bother panicking. Whipping his wand out, Albus flicked it two times, and each time an ethereal, silver mist came out, forming into a lustrous, magnificent bird. "Minerva, Severus, I need your aid. Privet Drive Number 4, Little Whinging, Surrey. Come as fast as you can!" They both knew this address and should be able to reach it within minutes. Albus himself had a faster way, however, and he turned towards Fawkes who hopped from his perch and onto his outstretched arm. The last thing he noticed in his office was the device stopping any movement and noise altogether before a golden red flame consumed him.

* * *

 **May 5th, 2015**  
Cargo Bay, The Quadrant

"Just a moment, sister. I need to memorize this moment."

Gamora felt a touch confused when Harry interrupted her in her greeting, but she did give him the moment he desired, watching with interest the glee on his young face. He had been working on his M-ship, but he had no tools in his hand and had turned his body to face Nebula, who appeared to be just watching their younger brother with a more mellow scowl on her face. A good sign.

"What is going on?", she finally asked when Harry made no move to actually greet her. She took it with amusement, though, seeing that something funny had happened, and she was curious what this was about.

"I only told him about the death of the Other at Ronan's hands. He is unreasonable ever since." Nebula sounded annoyed, but not overly so.

"Understandable. As a mage, you had many private lessons with him, I imagine?" It would explain Harry's palpable happiness, despite how vindictive said happiness felt. She didn't begrudge him such a small victory like outlasting an enemy. It made her wonder, however, if she had felt just as gleeful as her brother about the Others death had she not been a fighter, an assassin. Those with powers beyond the physical, like psychics and sorcerers, had always been closer to the Other than she had ever been.

"Oh, a lot, actually. Shit, even one lesson with him had been one too many. Fuckin' asshole." He was still grinning brightly. Smiles and grins suited him handsomely, Gamora noticed. She would have to learn how to cause them more often. Peter had no problems with that, maybe he would teach her. "Oh, and you know what? Remember Azalel? Apparently, he made it out of there, too!" These news were even more exciting for the young mage - he jumped from the scaffolding he had perched on to reach the wing of his M-class, repulsor long forgotten.

"Oh, yes. I remember this. I myself was away from the Temple when it happened." She smiled openly and even caught a somewhat content look on Nebulas face. "He did cause a lot of chaos. More than your defection."

"I can live with that. Good for him, anyway. I do have to tell Peter about this whole failed Terra invasion though. How funny is that!"

* * *

 **February 19th, 2002**  
Little Whinging, Surrey, England

Just a couple of minutes after an unknown craft had taken to the skies, three strange people stood in front of a neatly kept house. The street lamps illuminated the meticulously arranged flowers - the snow had already given way to the early bloomers in this part of Britain, and the occupants of Number 4, Privet Drive had wasted no time to clean up the front garden. A car was parked in front of the house and the windows were lit, indicating that the family was at home.

Severus pulled his thick, black cloak tight around his towering yet thin frame, scowling darkly at the house in front of him. The whole neighbourhood was tidy and neat, with little white fences and carefully carved hedges and white laced curtains. It was the neighbourhood of the well-off, the place where poverty was looked upon with a frown. In Little Whinging, there were no beggars. There wasn't even litter on the street. The perfect childhood home, one would say. It was obvious now why the Potter spawn had been brought here, and he dreaded the day he would have to teach the spoiled brat.

His gaze lingered on Number 4 for another moment and wandered over towards the Headmaster, schooling his own face into his custom expression of indifference and slight annoyance. "What now, Albus? There is no sign of an emergency. Surely these people have already tended to precious Potters needs."

"Honestly, Severus!" And there was Minerva, jumping in to defend the Potter. Their relationship since his employment had healed slowly - it helped that she had apologized for her blatant favouritism, even though he thought that the incarceration of Black had forced her to finally see some sense. It certainly didn't help him anymore, but it had been gratifying. Still, it didn't surprise him anymore that she would be on the side of the next generation of Potter. "Albus wouldn't have called us for anything less than serious." She frowned at his scowl and turned around, starring at the Headmaster with narrowed eyes. "Though it would help to know **what** has happened, Albus."

It was then that Severus noticed how strangely quiet the old man was. They had arrived after him, as it took longer to walk outside of the wards for them to apparate while the Headmaster could simply use his Phoenix for fast travel, and Albus had merely greeted them before facing the innocent looking house. The Headmaster shook his head after another couple of moments.

"I don't understand... The wards are in perfect condition." It wasn't an answer to Minerva's question, but the words caused Severus spine to prickle. So there was something wrong. Albus flicked his wand, murmuring in a strange language unknown to the Potions Master and moving the tip of his wand in complex figures. The heavy taste of magic assaulted the younger man and he blinked when he saw a trickle of colour swirling around the edge of the property. Soon a thin strand of the reddish light extended from what had to be the actual blood wards, stretching along the street, away from the house.

"I have placed several wards and charms onto this property, as well as on Harry himself. Today, the apparatus connected to the charms monitoring his health activated strong enough to indicate serious injury or distress. It seems that Harry has yet to return home, however. Come along."

Severus kept his mask firmly on. Next to him, Minerva showed a disgusting amount of emotion on her naturally stern face as they hurried along and away from the house. The trail of reddish tinted magic danced in front of them like the steps of a little child going out to play. The prickle wandered up his spine and settled at the nape of his neck. It was already dark outside, yet there was no sign of distress at Number 4. He also couldn't sense dark magic in the neighbourhood - only the strong flavour of the blood wards that felt far too similar to Lily's magic to be comfortable for him. Everything indicated that Potter had simply injured himself somewhere far enough away to not be found yet, but it didn't feel alright. And if Severus had learned one thing during the war, it was that he had to trust the feel of things just as much as his own, cold logic.

It took some time to follow the trail. They walked unseen through the neighbourhood, passing more houses and small, public lawns. Once the trail entered a playground, but it didn't stay there long - with sudden haste the reddish light left the place, and the three Professors hurried to follow.

And then, just a couple dozen meters away from the playground, where a meadow stretched between it and another row of houses, the trail flickered into the sky. It was then that Severus felt himself worrying.

* * *

 **May 5th, 2015**  
Mess Hall, The Quadrant

Watching Gamoras face while she put two and two together was oddly entertaining. Of course, she was more worried about the fact that Thanos had wanted something from Terra than Harry, who thought that it was hilarious that Peters backwater home planet had been able to deflect one of the most feared armies of their time, especially when that army was, in fact, the one Thanos loved to make use of. She did, however, agree that they should let Peter know, which was why Harry was sprinting down the hallway towards the mess hall, where he was quite sure to find Peter.

"Peter! You won't **believe** what I just found out!", he shouted upon entering the room, still panting slightly from the run. There he sat, trying to feed Groot, squashed between Drax and Rocket. Yondu was seated vis-á-vis from them, trying very hard not to coo at the adorable little tree person. Kraglin and Mantis were missing, probably on the bridge, but they could wait. He had news to tell.

"Shit... **no** , Groot! Sit still!" The Terran held a small spoon aloft, while Groot tried to stand up and wave at Harry. Since he woke up and made peace to his sisters Harry had taken the chance to properly meet and greet his brother's friends. Groot had immediately taken a shine to him, much to Rockets amusement. Mantis, too, proved to be quite interesting, while Drax was simply hilarious. It was easy to imagine why Peter had decided to group up with them instead of coming back to the Ravagers, and he knew that despite losing their home, Yondu and Kraglin enjoyed the new company. All three of them had lost quite a few friends during Taserface's mutiny and the fact that these were Peters friends made it easy for them to bond quickly. "Just... a moment. Good boy!"

Groot had finally deigned to eat his little sugary kibbles and Peter had the opportunity to look up, throwing an easy smile towards Harry. Yondu took his chance and made a grab for both Groot and the bowl of kibbles, causing Groot to sing and sway and Rocket to laugh raucously. Harry quickly greeted the others, planting his bum firmly next to Yondu and stared at Peter, an answering smile on his lips.

"Did you know that, like, three years ago, your Terra had first contact?" The question blurted out of his mouth, and boy, was it worth it to run the whole way.

* * *

 **February 20th, 2002**  
Headmasters Office, Hogwarts

"No signs of magic anywhere, two other boys missing, and those... those **people**!" The fury was the only thing that held her together at the moment, and Minerva was well aware of that. So she fed it with more and more indignation. Just a little bit longer. She was still needed. "Have you seen their disgustingly happy faces, Albus? Have you **seen**?!"

She already knew that Albus had, indeed, seen it. He had been just as angry as her when they had informed them of poor Harry's disappearance this morning. They had searched nearly the whole night for any traces but had found nothing. Just three missing boys and the most horrible muggles she had ever had the misfortune to meet. But his anger did nothing to placate the witch. Not yet, anyway. Neither did the guilt she has planted in his eyes with her sharp words. She would have felt smug had the situation not been so dire - Albus finally believed her many complaints she had made about the Dursleys after placing Harry in their dubious care, and even Severus seemed thoroughly disillusioned of his twisted image of James and Lilys son after they had questioned the muggles.

"I am well aware of my mistakes, Minerva. I should have monitored the situation more closely, but I felt secure with Arabella there. How she could have missed it, I am not sure, but now we have to concentrate on finding Harry."

Before she could answer, the door to the office opened, causing both of the Professors to turn around. It was Severus. His sallow face was even more serious than normal for the young man. Dark shadows clung under his eyes, matching her own.

"I found four more cases of missing kids from all over Britain. They all went missing yesterday, between five and seven pm. All were muggles and the boys from Surrey were the last one to be taken. I have visited those places I had easy access to, and neither showed any sign of magic. Headmaster?"

"The Office of Improper Use of Magic has messaged me. There is no evidence of accidental magic since January." Albus sighed. The man certainly looked his age as he shook his head. Minerva pursed her lips and turned to watch the numerous devices dotting the Headmaster's office. A bowl-like contraption was spinning slowly - soon, it would start to fail. Albus had explained to her how it was bonded to the blood wards of Number 4. Without Harry there, the wards would disintegrate. Even so, should Harry be found she would never allow the boy to return to that wretched place.

"Have you informed the Ministry yet about the reasons you asked?" Her eyes wandered further down the row. A tall, fragile looking apparatus was merrily puffing wispy smoke into the air and she knew that both Albus and Severus were watching it too. This device was directly connected to Harry's life force, and it had yet to fail.

"Not yet, but I will have to inform Cornelius soon. A couple of days more, maybe, before the whole world will know of the kidnapping."

Severus sneered, but it looked like a half-hearted attempt. "No magic was used. The trail just goes on and on into the sky, higher than any broom could. I bet that whoever kidnapped the boy, they were using some muggle contraption, and with those, the Ministry won't be able to help our search at all."

He was right, Minerva was sure. The Ministry would not be able to help them, but they could not keep this from them. And when the Ministry was in the know, other people would be too. It was only a matter of time until those loyal to the Dark Lord would know that the Wizarding Worlds hero was missing. And vulnerable.

* * *

 **May 6th, 2015**  
Bridge, The Quadrant

"I still can't believe that Terra handed the Chitauri their asses. Did we got the lamest of the bunch?"

Rocket swivelled around in his seat, helping Kraglin to navigate through the mess that was the semi-legal port of Jaune IV. They had finally arrived at their destination only to find the port packed to the brim, but thanks to Yondus connections, they had bribed their way to admittance. They followed the coordinates towards the newly freed repair lot that was just big enough to fit the Quadrant, while Peter was at the communications station to make preparations for the various repairs and updates they wanted on the Quadrant. He was scowling at Rocket, sporting his middle finger, and Rocket laughed at him.

"Didn't they shoot a nuclear weapon at them?" Kraglin spotted their lot and cut through a flock of smaller ships to carefully park the Quadrant. It was a tight fit, but better than nothing.

"Yeah, exactly. And who uses nuclear weapons anymore? That's old school!"

"It's a contact, that's what it is. And who knows who had heard about it." Of course, Peter had to be a spoilsport. But then again, it **was** his home planet that was in danger. Rocket, who didn't know where he came from (and denied any possibility that he, too had been taken from Terra. He was not a damn racoon!), was in no position to know how his captain must feel right now. So he stuck to making jokes because sometimes that helped.

Kraglin rolled his eyes and slapped Peter lightly on his arm. "We could go there for a quick visit if you are so worried. It's not that hard a route. We just have to wait 'till they are finished with the ship." With a loud rumble, the Quadrant latched into the large holding claws and the hatch closed behind them. A soft hiss was the only indication that there would be breathable air in their lot now and with a low cheer Rocket powered off the ship's engines.

"Yeah, Quill, we could do that. Then you can show us all the cool stuff you are constantly bragging about."

Peter huffed, but he did cheer up a bit. Rocket knew him well enough though to know that the Terran would soon feel worse - in the one and a half years they had known each other, his captain had expressed his wish to visit Terra more than a dozen times only to get cold feed soon after. He snickered into his paws as he slipped off of his seat.

"Oh, shut up!"

That only made him laugh out loud again.

* * *

 **February 24th, 2002**  
Excerp of the Daily Prophet, Morning Edition

 _HARRY POTTER KIDNAPPED - BOY-WHO-LIVED-NO-MORE?  
by Roland Evergreen_

 _Over four years ago, a tragedy saved our world. Over four years ago, Harry Potter, beloved hero and the only known survivor of the Killing Curse, defeated You-Know-Who and single-handedly ended the war many of our Readers can still remember. But during that Halloween night, Harry Potter was also orphaned.  
Like us, our Readers remember the days following You-Know-Who's death and the many families that were willing to take in our saviour. And like us, our Readers remember how all of those upstanding families had been denied their heartfelt wish to offer our saviour safety and a new home._

 _For years, we had been told that our hero has found a safe haven. We had been told that, for his own security, his place of residence and the name of the family should remain unknown. We were content with the firm belief that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was as save as he could be. But was that true?_

 _Yesterday evening this reporter has been present when no other than Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin (first class), Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, reported the disappearance of Harry Potter at the Ministry! According to Mrs Amelia Bones, rising star at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the pieces of evidence point towards an abduction by muggle means on February 19th, together with another couple of Muggle boys. Yet the DMLE does not exclude the participation of Dark Wizards, she said. Our questions regarding the place of the crime were not answered, due to the confidential information of young Harry Potter's place of residence. His guardians, however, will be brought in for further questioning._

 _How could this happen? The most well-known boy in Britain, a victim of muggle kidnappers? His unknown guardians neglecting their duty of keeping our saviour safe? Neither Dumbledore nor the employees of the DMLE's Children's Welfare Office were forthcoming with interviews, but the situation seems dire indeed. Have we lost our hero due to lacking security measures? All this reporter can say, dear Readers, is that the Prophet will watch the proceedings closely, and hope that Harry Potter is safe, wherever he is._

* * *

 **Words:** 3727


	9. One And The Same

**AN: Our heroes prepare or their next adventure. The goal? To cheer up Peter!**

One And The Same - Selena and Demi

 **AN: A massive thanks to EssayOfThoughts for her incredible insight when it comes to the Maximoffs and the willingness to spend time explaining it all to me.**

 **And thanks to my new Beta, NallaJayFeather, who helps with my stupid spelling errors.**

* * *

 **May 8th, 2015**  
Orbital Space Port "Hovare", Jaune IV

They had all settled into their stay at the port - with the repairs and the updates they needed, Gamora was sure that they would stay roughly a fortnight here. The crew had rented a couple of rooms in one of the few inns that were not as dingy as the rest. The Ravagers, along with Rocket and Drax, were already eagerly exploring Hovare - which happened to be large enough to offer not just fuel, but beds and a multitude of shops and bars to choose from, with a good amount of them selling illegal items for the less than civilized crowd that mingled here.

Gamora hesitated to venture too far from the inn, noticing how restless Nebula had become since arriving. Yesterday, her sister had visited the parking lots set aside for visitors that did not need repairs, and Gamora knew that Nebula still thought about leaving them. It pained her, but she had promised Nebula that she would give her her blessing should she decide to go.

On the evening of the second day, it became perfectly clear to her that this was what would happen. Nebula was noticeably anxious, something that Harry too observed - when Yondu and Peter wanted him to join them in drinking, he had declined and stuck close to his two sisters, eying Nebula in a wary and worried manner which in turn made her even more twitchy.

All in all, Gamora was not surprised when Nebula finally snapped.

"I am going to leave today." Her words are cold and sharp, but the fact that she wouldn't meet their eyes was belying her attitude. There was a multitude of emotions swirling in those black eyes, more than Gamora could sort through in the short amount of time it took her sister to regain her bearings. In the space of a blink Nebula's eyes were once again empty, her face blank. The Zehoberei threw a quick glance in Harry's direction, who was frowning slightly but didn't appear to be offended by Nebulas demeanour. He cocked his head to the left, narrowing his eyes.

"You will stay in contact, yes?" The question came quickly before Gamora had any chance to respond to Nebulas statement, and the blue-skinned woman seemed startled by his reaction. That, too, was nothing Gamora would be surprised about. Nebula was, under all the harshness and deadly skills, a very insecure person. She didn't have a team of friends to help to ground her, and was less stable because of it. She seemed so very unsure of how to react to someone trusting her enough to let her go.

"I... can do that", she finally conceded, staring at her brother. "As long as you remember to not keep me from my path, or try to hinder me otherwise." And there was the sneer again, the anger that was her preferred shield against the unknown. Gamora found herself smiling sadly before she reached out and squeezed Nebulas shoulder in an affectionate manner. It pained her to feel her sister stiffen uncomfortably under her hand.

"It is what you have chosen for yourself, sister. As much as I wish for you to stay with us I cannot keep you from seeking your own way. Just... promise me that you will stay safe as much as you can. We have all lost so much already. I don't want to lose you as well, now that we finally have each other." Her words were heartfelt. She had never hated her sister, for she knew who was to be blamed for this hateful creature in front of her. She knew that it wasn't Nebulas fault, or hers, or Harrys. Not even that of her other siblings. Next to her, Harry nodded vehemently at Gamoras words.

"Same goes for me. Shit, if you find a way to kill that asshole, you better message me asap. I bet we all want to get a good swing in before you off him." His smile was vicious, his bottle-green eyes flashing with troubling emotions. There was a good measure of fondness there, and it was directed towards Nebula. His smile became softer and a mischievous glint could be seen in his eyes as he quickly stepped forward and threw his arms around the Luphomoid.

His laughter and Nebulas startled curses when she threw him onto the ground made the farewell not less sad, but it dulled the ache for Gamora as she watched her sister go.

"You are brooding." She had found him a couple hours after Nebulas departure, lying flat on his back on his bed in the inn. The others had yet to return from their trip to the bar - according to Rocket, whom she had called, Drax was trying to coax Mantis into reading the emotions of the drunk patrons and it was hilarious. Like her, Harry had not felt like joining the group after they had said their goodbyes to Nebula. Unlike her, however, Harry had opted to go to his room he shared with Yondu and Kraglin. The room was a stinky mess after just two days at the port, but she had lived with Rocket and Groot in close quarters for a long time now and was used to the disorganization. Sidestepping discarded clothing her eyes were fixed on the young mage who opened an eye and appraised her for a moment.

"Yes." The answer was quite simple, but he at least did not deny his feelings. Both eyes were open now, and he made to sit up. "I tend to do that when I think of the past."

Gamora nodded and sat at the edge of one of the empty beds. They'd been shoved closely together, and with wry amusement she noticed that Harry's bed was right in the middle of the three. There was a close bond between them, and between the three and Peter, one that spoke of family. She knew that the Guardians were a mix of family and friends and that her own bond with Peter was something else entirely, but both groups mixed well together. They were not shining heroes, innocent and pure. They had all been criminals, some were still, and they all knew how hard life was. It grounded them, pulled them together and she found herself content with it.

"You can talk to me about anything worrying you, Harry,", she offers him after a couple minutes of comfortable silence. A soft, troubled look entered his eyes as he shifted his weight a bit before he nodded while arranging his long legs under him.

"It's just, she reminds me of Azalel. It was pretty shitty for all of us, but they got the worst end of the bargain." There was more to that he was not yet sharing with her, but she could understand his hesitance when it came to this topic. The constant fights and punishments dished out at the Temple had destroyed most budding friendships in short order. Rivalries were fostered and those who had managed to retain their softer emotions had to keep them hidden at all times. She knew that, for a long time, Nebula had hated her with a passion, thinking Gamora to be loyal while she had been in so much pain. Truth had been rare and hard to come by in an environment where you were punished severely for going against the will of Father. Trust was almost nonexistent, at least from what she knew from of sisters. They had been separated early, the boys and the girls, and while they still fought each other in the pit, they had never socialized outside of it and she found herself wondering how it had been between the brothers. If trust had been so sparse there, too.

"Both are free, however. And while Nebula is searching for her revenge, it could very well be that Azalel will try to find a more relaxed life for himself." Her calming words were met with scepticism, but Harry nodded after a while and slowly breathed out as if he had an answer on his tongue but decided not to voice it.

"We may even meet him someday. I mean, what were the chances for you to meet my brother of all people? And joining him in his madness, too? We were able to pull that off once, we sure can do it twice." He managed an easy grin which she replied with a small smile and a more relaxed posture.

"I would be happy to reacquaint myself with another sibling. In the meantime, we will keep our eyes open for any signs."

* * *

 **May 10th, 2015**  
New Avengers Facility, New York

Pietro recovered from his injuries enough for transport a week after the Sokovia fight. They had been given accommodations at the New Avengers Facility, and with it came Passports, new clothing, daily check-ups for her brother and a vicious lawyer to make their stay legal as fast as possible. It was unnerving just how much was done for them, most of the time before Wanda could think of it herself. So she did what she could. She helped Pietro recover.

When Barton visited them the morning after Pietro had been released from the hospital she did her best to remain calm and friendly. It was true that Pietro had been shot while saving the man, but she told herself firmly that she had no reason to hate Barton for it. It had been her brother's decision after all, and that she would respect. Besides, Barton was very nice to them - a friendly face, easy jokes, a charming nature. Not too overbearing either - he went his way after half an hour and kept visiting the twins every morning after breakfast until Pietro was well enough to leave his bed.

The others kept their distance as well, giving the twins the opportunity to socialize with the Avengers at their own (slow) pace. Her brother was agreeable enough when it came to Barton, but there was still a deep distrust for the others despite the fight against Ultron. It was hard for them both to be under the same roof as the man who orphaned them, but neither of them was about to discard the chance to put their powers to better use. So, when Pietro took his afternoon nap - a thing he resented, but knew he had to put up with - she went and spent time with the other Avengers, or at least explored the facility. Once she even had the dubious pleasure to encounter Stark again (who avoided her as much as she avoided him). She managed to keep her tone civil and was surprised when he did the same. The talk was stiff and awkward - how was the apartment, was her brother feeling better, did they need anything - and left her with convoluted feelings of lingering anger, a bit of animosity and something that felt almost like guilt.

The moment Pietro was allowed to leave the bed she took him with her for short walks and later to join the Avengers who were on site for dinner. Thankfully, Stark only joined every now and then, pleading work as a reason to stay away most times. He did bring gifts with him when he made it to the dining room, little gadgets for the team or updates of their weapons, which was likely the reason why Rogers never demanded Stark to appear more often.

Though it was not without protest that Pietro came with her. Tonight was no exception, especially when they walked into the dining room and saw that Stark was already seated at the heavily loaded table, entertaining Rogers and his friend Wilson with a story about his college days. Wanda felt Pietro stiffen beside her and instinctively reached out through their connection. It was less telling than a comforting hand on his shoulder, yet more effective to help him with his anxiety. Especially when it came to Stark. The small touch of their minds took less than a second until she let go and walked forward. Her brother followed her hesitantly as she took a seat, mindful to keep her distance from Stark so as not to endanger their awkward truce.

"Good evening", she greeted the whole table. Her brothers own greeting was a lower echo of her words. The cheery reply came swiftly enough to sound genuine and it prompted a small smile of Wanda. She could feel Pietros searching gaze on her own face, followed by him relaxing a bit. Baby steps.

After a few awkward moments, Wilson asked Stark for details of his story, and the man quickly complied, taking away the attention from the twins. And soon after that, the door to the room opened again for Barton, his friend Romanoff and Vision. Next to her Pietros mood brightened quite a bit for which she was glad. She gave his knee a small squeeze under the table before eyeing both Romanov and Vision. The redhead gave both of them a nod before taking her seat next to Stark, while Barton joined Pietros other side. Vision floated over and took the seat across from Wanda, and like always, the young woman could not quite look away from the being.

They had spoken just a few times, and while it never was quite as awkward as with the rest of the team, she still cut their talks short and kept on safe topics like the Facility and the team and how Pietro was doing whenever Vision asked about him. Never once did she mention the gem on his forehead or the things that they could do because of its powers. She was tempted, however, especially because he was never afraid or nervous or even shy around her. His mind, whenever she brushed it, was calm and soothing and so very different from those around her. Even Thor, who had gone back to Asgard a week after Sokovia, had not felt as alien as Vision. He was powerful and yet gentle, and she was intrigued by it.

She managed a stiff smile and was rewarded with one in return. That left her quite pleased - to become allies, if not friends, with the Avengers was, after all, her plan for a better future for both her brother and herself. The last one to join them at the table was Banner, who showed up a couple of minutes later, with a ruffled grey shirt and dishevelled hair, a Stark Pad still in his hand. He smiled tiredly when he sat down, taking up one of the few empty spaces with a murmured apology on his lips which was swiftly drowned out by Stark, who clapped his hands and peered up and down the table.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Dig in!"

She felt Pietro bristling and again squeezed his knee under the table, this time not quite as weak, making a point to carefully free her face from any resentment she still felt for the man. Instead, she followed Starks lead and pulled over one of the many bowls on the table. They were filled with various Indian dishes, rice and flatbreads. Most times, she knew, the food was prepared by one of the chefs that worked on the Compound, employed to feed the various workers and scientists of the Facility. Once, Banner had cooked them up a meal, exotic Brazilian dishes she had quite enjoyed. A quick glance to her left had her smiling softly again. Pietro was scowling, but he was not glaring directly at Stark, which was a big improvement over the first time she had asked him to come to eat with the others when Stark had been there. He looked up at her and wrinkled his nose, to which she responded with a smile and an elbow jab to his ribs, scooping a spoonful of rice onto his plate with her free hand.

Soon enough low conversations where held over the meal after the first minutes of silent, appreciative eating. The food was, as always, of good quality, and Wanda enjoyed the spicy dishes well enough. And although she was ever so often checking on Pietro (who was talking with Barton about his family, and the soon to be born son) she found herself watching the man - being? - in front of her dissecting his green curry, as if he wanted to try and taste the different ingredients on their own.

"Do you need the food?" The question came with the hint of hesitation - this was something a bit more personal than the topics she usually used around him, but Vision didn't seem to mind. He just stopped pulling apart a piece of vegetable to meet her eyes before shaking his head.

"Not like you do, Miss Maximoff. But I do enjoy the act of eating." He smiled at her, his tone like always perfectly polite. She had heard that his voice stemmed from Starks late AI Jarvis and for a moment she wondered if the AI had also been so very pleasant. The one operating now, Friday, was friendly enough but didn't sound quite as human as Vision did. But then again he was alive now. Or at least enough to count. "It is the same as sleeping, another thing I have no need for." But yet something he did on occasion? It was heavily implied in that sentence. She held back the question if he dreamt like a human and instead simply nodded while searching for another topic she could go for. It was harder than she thought, talking so casually with people other than Pietro. A bit uncomfortable, but also very interesting.

It was Romanoff who saved her as if sensing her trouble. She smoothly inserted herself into the conversation and steered it into a discussion about different cuisines - like Wanda, she knew quite a lot of eastern European dishes and the two women tried to explain them to Vision who paid close attention. It was enough to temporarily draw her attention away from Pietro (after a final checkup to see if he was still happily engaged with Barton).

She was alone in their rooms after dinner, reading a novel she had found in the library of the Facility. It was a whimsical tale about four kids getting lost in a magical place, ruled by a witch and full of wonders and danger. Sitting like this on the padded window sill while the sun was setting, was relaxing. She was still not fully happy, but she was content and felt confirmed in her decision to join the Avengers. Especially when Barton had asked them if they wanted to join him for a walk outside after the meal and Pietro had actually joined him, even without her. Which was why she was sitting not on the couch, but at the window, to watch her brother run circles around the Archer despite his still weakened state. They had just stopped with their antics and headed back to the building. Wanda smirked - soon, Pietro would be back and, knowing him, ready to boast a bit. He always did when he was in a good mood, and the tether that connected the twins was glowing right now.

As she predicted, it didn't take long for her brother to arrive at their quarters. His clothing looked a bit the worse for wear, his hair was windswept, his cheeks flushed and his eyes... his eyes were huge with wonder and as bright as his disbelieving smile. Something definitely happened, and Wanda was quick to discard her book and welcome her brother.

"Wanda, you will never guess!" He was a bit breathless, but not from his running. The smile did not disappear when he reached for her hands, holding them tightly in his own. They felt warm and safe and she couldn't help but match his smile.

"Well, tell me then." And when he did, it confirmed her decision just so much more.

* * *

 **May 17th, 2015**  
Orbital Spaceport "Hovare", Jaune IV

It was the day before the Quadrant would be ready for flight once more. It had taken the mechanics and engineers quite some time for the various upgrades the team had wished for; the full change to plasma powered internal systems had cost them a pretty penny, but according to Kraglin it would be well worth it in the long run.

Harry was walking through the nearly finished Ravager ship, eying the various light fixtures and new terminals. It still felt like home since most of the changes were internal, meaning the overall appearance of the ship was still the same. The quarters had been reworked - Yondu, Kraglin and he still stuck together and in time Groot would need his own cabin, too. He snorted a bit, thinking back to when Peter had asked Gamora to share accommodations. Her refusal had stung the older man, but not too much after it became clear that Gamora mostly needed her own room for her rigorous training. Something in which Harry would join her to polish his own skills.

He checked his communicator and grinned before entering the bridge. There were still some workers running around in other parts of the ship, not only from the repair shop working on their ship, but also from various merchants delivering food, drinks, and weapons. Tonight they would go and purchase the less legal necessities. It was always best to leave that for the last couple of hours. Snitches weren't common in these regions, but one could never be too careful. Most of the team had also used their long stay to buy privately needed items, like clothing and toiletries, tidbits and, in Rocket's case, even more weapons.

"First!" His cheer went unnoticed as he swiftly took Yondu's usual seat. The Ravager wouldn't need it for the next couple of hours anyway - he had promised to distract Peter for some time, giving the others some privacy without the man storming in. Soon enough, the others trickled in. He was somewhat glad that Kraglin immediately took the seat next to him, while Rocket took the other side, cradling Groot in his arms.

"Is he gone?" Mantis daintily crossed her legs at her ankles, tilting her head to the left. Her big, glossy eyes looked around in a curious manner, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. To no one's surprise, Drax planted himself at her side. Next to him was Gamora, who looked equally serious and amused.

"Yep." Harry popped his 'p' and leaned forward. "We have at least two hours. I promised him to meet up later, but that should be enough time."

"Hopefully. If he whines one more time, I'm gonna throw him out of an airlock." Rocket's comment gained a few snickers from the gathered bunch. "Now, the question is: How are we gonna pull it off? He's far too nosy and not as stupid as he looks, he will notice where we're heading."

"Shouldn't be surprised, the kid had it coming", Kraglin murmured with a nasty grin. Harry barked out a low laugh.

"I do not understand his indecisiveness. He wishes to visit his home planet, yet he makes such a fuss out of it." Drax shook his large head with a drawn expression on it, as if he could not believe that he had sworn to follow Peter as his captain. Harry could very well understand the feeling - he was still quite bemused by Peter's twitchy behaviour. He wouldn't mind visiting his own planet, after all. There were bound to be more mages there. People to learn from. He could already feel the warmth rising up in his belly the moment he thought about his magic, but he quashed the sudden urge to use it. The work on the Quadrant was not yet finished, and to handle his magic so close to the port was too high a risk. He pushed the prickly sensation down, waving a hand.

"Yondu gave Krags the coordinates to Terra, let's see which colonized systems are nearby. Pretend that we got a job - or better yet, get a job and earn some money back - then do our best to keep him from steering the Quadrant and we should be fine." His eyes flickered towards Drax, who was once again not listening. The warrior was a formidable ally, but he tended to get distracted every so often, mostly by food and Mantis. Of all the Guardians, Harry had yet to properly talk to him. Both tried often enough, but there were only so many topics that interested Drax, something that quickly exhausted the young Ravager. He was nice enough, hilariously direct and as physically strong as they came, but while he wouldn't call Drax an idiot, the man's intellect was very alien to the sneaky mage. "You with us, big guy?"

It took a not-so-subtle nudge from Mantis for Drax to look up. He frowned, looking like he was thinking Harry to be the idiot in the room. Like he said - hilarious. "Of course I am. Do you not see me?"

Next to him he heard Kraglin's soft snort. Rocket was not so polite and cackled loudly. Harry fought to keep his face amiable, throwing Drax a wide smile. "Good. Just to make sure, we won't tell Peter about our destination, yes?" This time Drax listened and nodded, which was enough for Harry.

"Good. Let's get to the details. I want to finish this before Harry meets up with Quill, there was a weapons dealer I have to visit." Rocket let the squirming Groot run to Mantis and cracked his tiny knuckles.

* * *

 **Words:** 4309

 **AN: My new favourite quotation is: "I hate myself while still thinking I'm better than anybody else." It's just so canon**!Snape **.**

 **I also added a small scene in Chapter 1. Nothing too important, I just felt like it. :)**

 **AN: So I decided that Bruce does not go on an epic space journey. There is still time until Ragnarök, and I may or may not send Bruce to join Thor in it.**


	10. Touched

Touched - VAST

Thanks to my beta-readers - **EssayOfThoughts** and **NallaJayFeather** , you two are gems.

* * *

 **May 19th, 2015**  
Bridge, The Quadrant

"Okay, guys, we're in."

This, Peter thought, was one of the more bizarre things you could possibly experience in the universe. The jump between two galaxies was massive without a stop between and the scenery was… to be honest, quite disturbing. Like the flickering grey interference screen of his grandfather's old television set, back when there was a storm brewing in Missouri. It was a mass of grey and black and white and he felt like the ship was not moving forward, not even an inch. There was no sense of movement at all like there was with the regular jump points, just the soft hum of the ship's engine and the flickering mess outside the windows. At least there were no additional sounds, no static hiss to further disturb him. It would take them three days to make the jump, give or take a couple of hours, and he already hated it.

"Hope this job is worth it", he muttered and averted his gaze from the unsettling scene.

"It definitely will be. Sure, it's just some barmy serial killer, but he butchered up an Ambassador and they still messed up catching him, so they are willing to pay good money." Harry was fiddling with his monitor, bringing up the file of the wanted criminal. There was no picture included, only a very vague description - Male, around 6'3'', bald, blue eyes - and a list of his offences, most of them being murder, some of them just theft of spaceships. Next to it was a rough map of the western quadrant of the Milky Way galaxy. A string of highlighted star systems indicated the gruesome route the murderer had taken.

"Maybe the price will even go up over time until someone stops him, huh?" Peter leaned forward, one hand on Harry's shoulder, and revelled in doing so. During his time away from the Ravagers he had missed his brother, his whole family, more than he would ever dare to articulate and the fact that Harry, Yondu, and even Kraglin were here with him, together with his friends, made him very happy.

"You wanna let him kill some more people to get more money? Why, Pete, I never!" Harry turned his head and winked at him, a big grin on his face. It made him smile in response but didn't stop the small slap he gave him.

"Don't be daft. But look at his pace, see?" He pointed at the list of dates next to the highlighted systems, tapping against the monitor. "He's pretty fast. I'm just being realistic here."

"Well, I won't complain if the price rises while we are in the jump." Harry shrugged and swatted Peter's hand away before closing the screen. "Let's get out of here, intergalactic jumps always give me headaches. Fancy some Yaro stew?"

* * *

 **May 20th, 2015**  
Quarters, The Quadrant

 _"If you ever change your mind_  
 _About leaving, leaving me behind…"_

Gamora hummed softly to the song. She was very fond of Peter's Terran music, and though he still hesitated to play the second tape through the ship's speakers, she was allowed to play both of them in their room for herself. Slowly swaying from side to side to the rhythm as Peter had taught her, she sorted through her clothes. Most of them were new, bought on Hovare to compensate for those lost after the destruction of the Milano, but she never had been overly attached to these kinds of things. The items she really cared for where always on her body, safe and just a touch away.

She rubbed a thumb over a small stain on one of her combat trousers before tossing it on the pile on the floor. Those she would wash. A shirt, clean and crisp, was folded and placed more carefully in one of the compartments on the wall. A dress, a present from Peter, startled her into a soft laugh and she pulled it close. It was a nice, deep blue. Form-fitting on the top and with a skirt that flared out when she turned around to a soft Yeah, yeah, yeah…

 _"I know I laughed when you left_  
 _But now I know I only hurt myself…"_

"Are you dancing?"

Again she spun around, again the skirt flared out rather dramatically. Harry smiled at her from the door, amused and with bright eyes. There was no malice in them, only curiosity, which was why she nodded instead of berating him for entering her room uninvited like she had done to Rocket the one time he had caught her dancing alone.

"Peter taught me, shortly after we met." The dress was not easily folded, but she managed. "Did he teach you, too?"

"He wanted to. But I never saw any merit in learning it." Finally, he took another step, leaving the doorway behind and allowing the automatic system to kick in, which closed the door with a soft hiss.

"You can try it if you want. Come, dance with me." She took his hand after putting away a pair of sturdy boots and relished in his laugh. It took a few moments until their hands were positioned just right, and then they swayed together to the slow, calming song. Harry was not half bad and avoided stepping on her feet. The pile of dirty clothes was not as lucky, however, and soon were trampled all over.

 _"I'll give you jewellery and money too_  
 _That ain't all, that ain't all I'll do for you…"_

"You know, this sounds awfully familiar…" She held his hand up, prodding him to spin once, twice before they came together again. He nearly tripped over a shirt in the process. "What's the story with this tape, anyway? He only ever played one, back on the Eclector."

"It was a present from his mother, one he had not opened until after… after Ego." She could feel how Harry tensed up, but she wouldn't let go of him. She kept swaying to the soothing sound, pulling him with her until he relaxed again. "After nearly losing Yondu, and you not waking up, he finally opened the package. He showed me the tape a couple of days after we arrived at Hovare."

He hummed and didn't comment further on it. It was easy to trust him not to pick on Peter for this - her captain had always been very sensitive when it came to his mother. And sensitivity was often mocked by their kind, by those who lived between the stars.

 _"You know I'll always be your slave_  
 _'Till I'm buried, buried in my grave_  
 _Oh, honey bring it to me_  
 _Bring your sweet loving_  
 _Bring it on home to me…"_

As the song came to an end, the two former assassins stopped their impromptu dance. Harry gave a laugh when he looked around the renovated room - he had dragged quite a number of clothes across the floor, but at least he was decent enough that he immediately started to pile them together again.

"I might have heard it through his headphones. Sometimes the music is really loud", he mused, eyeing an empty basket next to the cabinet before dragging it next to the pile. Gamora watched him for a moment before she, too, continued her work and folded another clean garment.

* * *

 **May 22th, 2015**  
Harthak City, Polnuna

The first planet they visited upon reaching the Milky Way galaxy was mostly covered in water, with three small continents and an unknown number of islands providing the necessary land mass for non-aquatic life forms to dwell on. The Polnik were small people, with dark grey, rubber-like skin and two sets of large, pitch-black eyes, that had evolved both gills and lungs. They weren't the weirdest race Harry had seen since travelling through space (he was, after all, living with a talking rodent and a walking tree), but they came close.

Fortunately, the crime had not taken place in one of the vast underwater cities of the Polnik, but in one of the cities above. Harthak was a big, sprawling mass of buildings, a conglomerate of dozens of different architectural styles, built by the galactic neighbours of the planet. It was also the centre of diplomacy and trade of the local star cluster, and thus highly guarded by the government.

This had not, however, stopped the wanted criminal from killing more than a dozen people, half of them members of the police.

"So, he started here?" Rocket was fiddling with his Black Book, a small monitor often used by headhunters to check the warrant lists from the governments. The file of the killer had been updated during their jump and Harry saw that the public had dubbed him "Blinder" for his tendency to gouge and cut out the eyes of his victims. It was still missing a picture, which was quite a feat. The young mage counted at least seven different security cameras near the plaza where the first recorded crime had happened.

"Yep." The racoon popped the p with relish before closing the holo-screen. "According to the file he didn't use any visible device to corrupt the footage, but all the recordings were pretty messed up when they checked them. Forced a group of maintenance workers into this alley and shot them down without much resistance. When the police came, he killed them too, and just as easy, before making a run."

They were alone at the plaza, standing right in front of the entrance to the alley which led to several backdoor-entrances of some shops and a number of dumpsters. The rest of the crew was walking about the city - especially Peter had been keen to escape the Quadrant after the three-day long jump between galaxies. With most of the evidence long cleaned up, they had only planned to stay long enough to get a good look at the crime scene and to fill up on some essentials like food and fuel.

"Kind of a shitty place to stay hidden", Harry remarked. "You can see right into it and the dumpsters are all bolted to the ground."

"Well, they say he's crazy. Let's hope he doesn't screw up until we can cash in, eh?"

* * *

 **May 25th, 2015**  
Phershakan, Pherth II

On the fifth planet (rather tropical, the same-named native race were furred despite the high temperatures) they met with another group of headhunters who were trying for the bounty. They weren't Ravagers but from another small Syndicate that only operated in the Milky Way. They did, however, have a lot to say about the Ravagers. A lot of nasty things, to be specific. Which was not at all a good thing when you had four more or less active members of said Syndicate with you. Harry didn't mind the ensuing fight - he was, after all, one of those members, and very proud of the flame on his jacket.

They had to leave the planet earlier than anticipated, after that fight. Which was, in the end, quite fortunate when the file updated mid-jump. Two people dead, fresh in the news. They changed course and made their way to the most recent crime scene.

* * *

 **May 25th, 2015**  
Ivi Gardens, Stravitov

They arrived before the authorities were finished cleaning up. Stravitov was not used to such slaughter, which delayed things. On busy planets, the mess would have been gone mere hours after the first investigation. On Stravitov, a lush and peaceful garden colony, it took almost two days.

The native race was long-limbed and oddly beautiful, with heart-shaped faces and reddish skin. They were also at a loss on what to do, and thus granted the Guardians entry to the small house. There were no grand skyscrapers in Stravitov, not even here, at the capital. The highest building only had a couple of stories and housed the private star cruisers of the more well-off individuals. The dead owners of the house had been such individuals.

"Oh, fuck me", Peter cursed, looking around. The blood had already dried up, but the heavy coppery scent had not aired out. The bodies had been taken away, but bits and pieces of skin and tissue were still laying around. It was him and Gamora looking around this time, while Groot enjoyed being treated like royalty - the Strata were exceptionally fond of plants, and the small Flora colossus had received a very warm welcome -, the others tagging along. He envied them for a brief but fierce moment. "This is disgusting… there were two victims?"

Gamora, who looked way calmer than Peter felt, checked a small file that had been brought together by the local peacekeepers. "Wife and Husband. The husband's eyes had been gouged out, apparently with bare hands. Nothing except the ship was stolen."

"If all he wants is a good ship, why does he stop so often? And if it's just about killing people, he could have easily stayed on one of the busier planets. He's searching for something."

He was very careful with crossing the room, avoiding all the bits and pieces the Peacekeepers had yet to scrub away and peered through another door. "Is there anything about a kid in the file they gave us?" Peter entered the room, switching on the lights and took a few moments to look around. The walls were painted in bright, cheery colours and a number of toys cluttered the floor. The bed looked too small for an adult Strata and there were childish paintings hung on the wall across from the entrance.

Gamora made a soft, startled noise, followed by a relieved sigh. "A daughter, yes. She was unharmed. It says that she had been in her room when our target broke in. Apparently, he had locked the door, but she was able to escape through the window to get help."

"So he spared a child. Again. Do you think we can talk to her? Or at least ask the Peacekeepers for a transcript of the interview?"

"The latter should be doable. She may have been able to hear something before she ran. Give me a moment, I will try to contact the Keepers office."

They made their way out of the house. Gamora was talking into her communication unit, her voice kept low. It was a beautiful day, with a clear, lavender sky and a bright, blue-ish sun adorning it. The exact opposite of the gruesome scene indoors. Peter took a moment to gather himself while waiting for his girlfriend to finish the call.

"They will send us the transcript. It will be rather short. The daughter is still at the hospital."

"I will call the others, then. We should get ready to depart, I have a feeling that there will be an update soon."

* * *

 **May 27th, 2015**  
Orbital Space Station "Kanope", Xetuna

The update came two days later, one day after they had departed from Stravitov. The interview hadn't been very helpful - the victims' daughter had still been in shock when the Peacekeepers tried to talk to her, and the only useful information the crew had gathered was that the Blinder was searching for something - or someone. It matched Peter's assumptions and the fact that the killer was travelling in an almost linear route. Which was, by itself, quite disturbing, given that this route was directly headed towards a set of coordinates that the whole crew were very familiar with.

Harry could only hope that they would be able to catch the madman before he reached Terra. Preferably without Peter taking notice of their proximity to his cradle planet. Otherwise, he would never hear the end of it.

Thanks to their early departure they were the first to arrive at the small station, not even a full day after the file had been updated. The authorities were far more used to such a gruesome scene than the gentle Strata, which was why the storage room, the crime scene of the latest murder of two mechanics, was already free of any blood and gore. The third mechanic, a young humanoid teen and nephew of one of the victims who had been spared just like the girl on Stravitov, was luckily in a far better mental state.

Antar Kanmerey was only a couple of years younger than Harry and had a set of bright brown eyes with the slightest hint of green in them. He was tall and gangly, with a shock of dirty blonde curls and a gap between his upper front teeth. He did not cry or rant or shout. Instead, his voice was low, his words stilted and every syllable soaked in a cold, vengeful fury.

"I could hear them. I was searching for Uncle Riek, we had to check one of the hangar doors and he said he wanted to do an inventory. Something smelled off, I think it was blood, and I heard a voice asking about some stone. It was hard to understand… It was muffled, the sound, you see? But he asked about the stone, and Uncle Riek said he didn't know no stone, and then the other voice got louder. Said that Uncle Riek's eyes were wrong, and then… Then I heard the scream and I pushed my alarm, the emergency one we have to wear and opened the door and…"

Harry watched Antar. Noticed his laboured breath, how his eyes moved from one point to the other. Never looking up. They were fixed on the slightly dirty floor of the interrogation room, on the table between them, on his own hands, balled into fists. He remembered his own fears when he had thought Yondu dead, when he had thought Peter dead, but he didn't reach out for the teen. It would hardly help, coming from a stranger.

"You have seen him, yes?" It was Gamora who asked the questions with a gentle, yet firm voice. She was here with Harry and Peter. Mantis had offered, but despite her abilities, she was lacking the necessary tact. Not that Harry thought he had much more. He knew, however, when to hold his tongue.

"He ran out. Right past me. I can't tell you his race, but he had lots of implants and really pale skin and the bluest eyes. I didn't really look at him, see, because behind him was…" He stopped again, shaking his head. "He had squeezed his eyes out. With his hands. Uncle's coworker, ol' Sal, he was on the floor, and there was blood everywhere."

He finally looked up and there was a fierce, burning hatred in those eyes. Harry, however, didn't feel the burning heat of them. He suddenly felt numb and cold, yet he couldn't quite discern why. He exchanged a startled look with his sister before he pushed back both the ominous feeling and the shudder that wanted to ride up his spine and settle in the nape of his neck.

* * *

 **May 27th, 2015**  
Unknown Location

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. But it always hurt, an ache too deep to ignore, to persistent to ride out. It hid in his joints when he moved, his lungs when he breathed and in his head when he thought. But he was always hurting, since he was little, no more than a faun, taken from his mother and father and siblings. But maybe, maybe they had been taken from him. It was hard to remember what came before, but he would always remember the screams and the blood and the smell of burnt flesh, and Father's hand on his shoulder and his voice in his ears. The memories were hard to grasp and soon it was someone else's screams and blood and burnt flesh and then it was his screams and blood and burnt flesh.

He remembered the Sharp Place. The smells and voices, the feeling of hard, unforgiving stone under his naked feet, small, frightened faces around him turning into paranoid grimaces into hostile glares into cold, dead eyes. And he remembered a pair of green ones. They never turned hostile or dead, but guilty and full of pity. Once he had known the name and the face of those eyes. Once, before he had been broken so completely that it had taken him years to gather enough pieces of his former sanity to understand what they had done to him, what he had turned into. That moment of clarity had brought forth another kind of pain, one of loss and grieving and anger and hate, hate, hate, and with the new pain had come plan and the urge and the execution.

The eyes in front of him were green, too, but they held neither guilt nor pity. He searched and searched, confused and angry (always angry) for the hint of warmth and recognition. He was sure, as sure as he could be nowadays, that his pair of green eyes would show all this, that his pair of green eyes would be happy to see him. But those in front of him didn't, and so he killed them and heard screams and felt blood and smelled burnt flesh. It left a familiar taste in his mouth and for a moment, he stood still, watching the fragmented memories from before he had been broken.

* * *

 **Words:** 3566


	11. Still Suspicion Holds You Tight

Still Suspicion Holds You Tight - B.R.M.C.

* * *

 **May 28th, 2015**  
State-of-the-art hospital, Somewhere

It was a small building Stark's driver had brought them to. Barton had already been gone for a week, and at the end of it, Wanda was relieved when the call finally came for them to join him. Only Romanoff, Pietro and herself were here - the others had decided to give the Bartons some space and had planned their visit for the next day.

It was a private clinic. As far as Wanda knew, Stark had personally prepared for this when Barton told him about his wife. With the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. a year ago, the former assassin had been thankful for the help of his friend and had gladly accepted the provided facilities, and, after a long talk with his wife, the offer to move his family to the Compound afterwards for better protection. And even though Wanda felt a spark of anger at the blatant show of money and influence, she was also pleasantly surprised how genuine the billionaire had sounded when he had made the offer. And how much Barton had to trust him for accepting it.

So she had gone along with the other two when Barton had called and was now sitting in the small but tasteful family waiting room, drinking jasmine tea and occasionally glancing towards the door that led towards the delivery room. Her brother was trying to act calm and collected, an image she was more successful at projecting. Across fromthem sat Romanoff, a book in her hands and a cup of coffee in front of her. Wanda couldn't see if she was nervous or not but she didn't use her powers to find out. It would be easy, to just brush over another's mind, not more than a gentle touch. Still, she wanted to give them some space, if only to learn to trust the Avengers. And the less she slipped, the more she had to put her trust in them. With some Avengers it was… not easy, but not as hard as she had thought. With others, not so much.

The door opened just moments after she had finished her tea. Predictably, Pietro jumped up and hurried towards Barton who held onto a small, soft bundle. The blanket was baby-blue, with small, white dots stitched around the edge, and surrounded the baby inside almost entirely. "May I present: Nathaniel Pietro Barton!"

"He's so tiny", Pietro breathed, not daring to touch the red, wrinkly skin of the tiny face. The eyes were scrunched closed, the teeny lips parted just so, and the smallest tuft of blonde hair sat on the scalp.

"He is, isn't he?" There was a gentle wonder in Barton's eyes. He was in love with this child, just as much as he was in love with each of the other two children he had with his wife, and it showed in the careful and protective way he held his son and the warm smile that tugged on his lips. "He has his mommy's eyes even."

"And his father's nose", Romanoff commented. She, too, had made her way to Barton to inspect her godchild. Immediately, Barton's face lit up and without a moment's hesitation, he presented his son to her to take. And she did, with an ease that spoke of practice and that surprised Wanda quite a bit. But then, she mused, these two were close. A long, shared history, perhaps, and the ease came from holding Barton's other children back when they had been babes.

"Hello, darling Nathaniel", the redheaded assassin murmured, stroking one plump cheek with the back of a finger. Pietro was trying not to look too eager (and she couldn't say why he tried - he had already explained in great detail to her how much he looked forward to holding the baby), but Wanda saw his fingers twitching. She smiled, hovering behind her brother. This would only strengthen the forming friendship between him and Barton, something Pietro desperately needed in the future. He needed more than just herself, and while she truly believed that the siblings belonged together, that there was nothing who could replace either of them, she was also determined to gather friends they could not only like, but also trust.

A soft, whining sound escaped the blue folds of the blanket, and Wanda couldn't help but smile. At least she wasn't the only one. Romanoff gently rocked the baby and placed a kiss on his forehead before surrendering the small being back into Barton's arms who then presented Nathaniel to Pietro.

"One arm here, to support the head, and close to your chest. I promised his mother to bring him back in one piece." Barton grinned like a loon, but that was expected. What was not expected was the look of near panic on Pietro's face when Barton arranged little Nathaniel in his arms. "Just so. You're a natural, kiddo!"

And with that, Wanda watched her brother fall in love. She would thank Bar… Clint for that after he came back to the Compound.

* * *

 **May 28th, 2015**  
Orbital Space Station "Kanope", Xetuna

He had a talent for deceit and was clearly cunning enough to act on it. But he lacked a touch of subtlety - why else would he suddenly decide to accompany her for restocking when before he had always, and with astonishing ease, found an excuse to avoid the task? She did humour him, though, because a second pair of arms were always handy when it came to shopping. Which was why, after a hurried breakfast, Harry and she were busy browsing the labels of different nutrition bars, trying to find those that Drax was inexplicably fond of. Time was short - the crew had decided to leave after just one night's sleep, lest they lose their advantage in the hunt. Whatever it was that Harry wanted to talk about, he would have to find the words in the next half-hour or on the Quadrant, and the Quadrant was, while spacious, not the best place for secret meetings. A quick glance told her that he would spill the beans (she still had not asked Peter about the history of that particular saying) soon enough. He was already chewing on his lip, a nervous tell that she had quickly caught on to.

"Say, sister…" She smiled but was careful not to gloat. It wouldn't do for him to know how easy she could read him. Not that his eyes were dull - she was sure that he had no problems reading her, too. But sometimes blindness came in many facets, and he might not have noticed yet.

"Yes, brother?" She paid for a couple of boxes and Harry dutifully carried them out of the dingy store. He gave her a troubled look - he was so very expressive whenever he felt no need to hide his feelings.

"I was just thinking. 'Bout the boy from yesterday, and what he was sayin'. It's the most information we've got on the Blinder, but…"

Ah, thought Gamora. She should have known that Harry's thoughts were, in some fashion, quite similar to her own. He had escaped the hell a lot earlier than she had, but it always left an imprint that stayed the same on one's soul regardless of the length of time you had to spend there. In that, neither she nor he had changed that much since leaving the Temple. Leaving Him.

"But the description sounds similar to another", she finished for him just as they entered another store, just as dirty as the other. There was not much money between the Guardians anymore after Hovare, but with the right mind, set to the task, even a little amount of Units could be stretched a long way. And Gamora, ever the survivor, had the right mind for haggling. It helped when you were a known, albeit repentant and pardoned, assassin still feared by a lot of people in the universe.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Harry flinch ever so slightly. Turning around to face him, she took a couple of seconds to properly look at him. There was guilt in his eyes and denial in the way his jaw was set and another multitude of troubling emotions surrounding him that it was almost palpable. She sighed before dragging the young man between two shelves, placing both her hands on his stiff shoulders.

"It doesn't have to be him, you know, and even if it's him, there is nothing you have yourself to blame for. We have been over this, Harry, but I willtell you again and again if I must." She kept her voice low and firm, but not accusing. The young mage was a lot like Peter and just slightly easier to talk to when it came to troubling topics. But he was also actively searching her out when he needed to talk, and that was something that Peter had yet to learn. "For now, we can't be sure yet. There are many people out there and they come in all forms and colours. So don't fear what has yet to be proven true."

"But when it's proven, it will be on us to take him down. Us, Gamora! It was bad enough when we had been forced to do so. You know what he had done for me. And it ain't a coincidence that he's on his way to Peter's planet, either. You know that. Not with how he had escaped the Temple just when Father wages war against Terra!"

His voice rose slightly higher at the end, enough that she shushed him. A stubborn look passed his artificial eyes before closing his mouth, jaw set in a very different way than before. It was defiance, and Gamora knew that she had to tread carefully now.

"I never said it was impossible. And I agree with you - I don't think that you could or even should fight against him when the time comes." She cupped his face in her hands and he lowered his eyes, slightly relaxing his stance. It was a good sign that she knew from Peter. "I will not allow it. But there will be a reason for this madness. If there is no other way, you can count on me."

The promise did not weight her down - she would rather kill a dozen more of her brothers and sisters than see either Nebula nor Harry forced to do so. Not as long as she was still drawing breath.

* * *

 **May 29th, 2015**  
Bridge, The Quadrant

The time between jumps stretched the longest. Not every jump point was close to the next, especially not this far away from the main hubbub, as Yondu once pointed out. One exited the jump, the computers would search for the next couple of jump points available, one set the coordinates right and waited until they were close enough to start the jump procedure anew. In busy (and rich) quadrants of the universe, it was almost instantaneous. Here, in the suburbs of the Milky Way, it sometimes took hours to reach your next point.

That created a lot of waiting time, and despite what some people said, one could not always eat, sleep or take a dump to spend your time. Groot was, mostly, not touched by that sentiment. He simply fell asleep if there wasn't anything shiny or colourful to play with. Drax was likewise easily occupied, and could sit for hours at one spot polishing his knives, with Mantis chatting away.

The rest was not so lucky, and while Gamora had headed down to the Cargo Bay with Harry to beat the shit out of him and call it training, the rest of the crew lazed around on the Bridge. It was Rocket's shift to keep an eye on the flight route and the overall performance of the Quadrant, a task he spiced up by trying to calculate a decent prognosis on where the Blinder would end up next. Not that there were a lot of choices left - they were fast approaching Asgardian Territory, which meant that between Delta Leonis and Terra there would be neither jump points nor civilizations. With only a handful of possible destinations left until they reached that dreadful point they had decided to visit those colonized planets that were more or less directly between Kanope and Delta Leonis, all the while scanning for the stolen ship from Strata. This had been Rocket's own idea - a man who stole ships without bothering to be stealthy about it could very well forget to disrupt the short-range transmissions most every (legal) ship constantly sent out. The device was most times hidden somewhere in the bowels of the engines and as such quite hard to find. Once you found it, however, you could easily 'upgrade' it by connecting it to the main computer so that the owner could cut off those transmissions. Such things were, of course, highly illegal, as those transmissions were used by police forces to identify the ship, but they were also not very well known, so naturally, Rocket had done said upgrade almost immediately on the Quadrant.

Of course, he hadn't told anyone about that last part.

Laughter drifted over from where Peter and Yondu sat. Some snippets of their conversation reached his sensitive ears, and he snorted softly while fiddling with some parameters of an equation that the board computer would solve for him. It was not very hard to do such calculations, but it was dull work to do. Two seats down the row, Kraglin was leaning back in his seat, a bowl of spicy snacks on his lap, and watched some funky space show on his left monitor while his second one had the file of the murderer open, in case that it was updated.

With a swift motion, he typed in the last numbers into the equation and let the computer do the rest of the work. The moment his shift was over, he would go take a nap. Or better, take something apart to build something awesome. Preferably something that could explode or make other things explode. Or maybe he could go down to the Cargo Bay and watch Gamora kicking Harry's arse.

With a soft beep, his monitor expanded slightly. A map of their surroundings flickered on the screen, with a bright, yellow line trailing after the blinking dot that was their ship, and a couple of more muted coloured lines going forward. Three lines were taking the route towards Delta Leonis, where they split up into more or less likely directions the Blinder could take. One forest green line made a U-turn, which he dismissed, but the others were more promising.

"Hey, what's that?" A hand appeared in his line of sight, tapping on the map, specifically a dark red line that crossed Delta Leonis and disappeared on the right-hand side of the monitor. Rocket knew where it was headed - while Terra was certainly a backwater planet, it was getting a more and more popular name out there in the dingy bars and seedy places. The rumour of a failed invasion, a part of Asgardian Territory, and, last but not least, one Peter Quill, captain of the crew that saved Xandar and a known Terran. This all led to the fact that some eyes were now on that planet, and they were certainly not the kind sort.

"Just some prognosis. It's math, Quill, don't try to wrap your thick head 'round it." He tried to swat away the hand as if it was an annoying fly, and just like a fly it came back just as fast, tapping and prodding.

"I know math", Peter sounded petulant now and he leaned over, squinting his eyes a bit. "Can you zoom out?"

"How about you just sod off?!" He felt quite nervous, and he hated feeling that way. But with Peter fumbling with the program, it was only a matter of time until he found out how to properly navigate the map, and they were too close to Terra to risk the damn planet to pop up on the monitor now. "Listen, if you're bored, why don't you go be helpful somewhere else? I said don't touch!"

One of the lines was gone now, though thankfully not the red one. Peter had followed the now non-existent blue line right across the monitor and was now staring confused and curious at a particular star with its name shown above it. "Sirius. Sounds similar." And to Rocket's horror, the stupid Terran tried to once again touch and prod.

"For fuck's sake, Quill!", he blurted out before catching himself again. "Don't you have other things to do other than messing up my work? Like, have you talked to your brother yet?" Seriously, his captain was far too easy to lie to. Especially when you knew what kind of bait to throw him.

"What's with him? You know something?", Peter stopped fiddling with the monitor in an instant and looked part worried, part excited. Rocket blamed the boredom - the half-Terran never faired well when there was nothing to do for him.

"You don't know? Your brother was searching for you, right before Gamora snatched him up. They are down in the Cargo. Dunno if it's important, but hey, better safe than sorry, yeah?" It was, of course, a big fat lie, but desperate times called for desperate needs, and it definitely worked with the sometimes painfully gullible man whose face visibly lit up.

"Shit, I better get going! Who knows how sore he will be when Gamora's finished with him!"

Rocket's knowledge of Terran fauna was quite limited. But had he known about dogs, he would have undoubtedly described Quill as a giant labrador pup. He watched his captain walk through the door, counted to five and flicked on his comm. "Harry, Quill's on his way. He was way too nosy and I had to distract him before he found out about Terra. Yeah, he will come down to you, so you better find something you wanted to tell him about, bye!"

He flipped both the laughing Yondu and Kraglin off while ending the call.

* * *

 **June 2nd, 2015**  
Sarkan, Bigutar (Delta Leonis)

Despite the recent (and fairly expensive) overhaul of the Quadrant, Harry had been very reluctant to actually use his magic onboard, fearful that it would still find some obscure, yet very important operation system sensitive to his powers by accidentally destroying it. Sure, he had levitated some smaller objects here and there or fiddled with some pieces of scrap metal into usable meeples after discovering an old game of Jakz that was short on them, but he had abstained from using his more impressive (and often explosive) skills.

Naturally, after a couple of days travelling the boring space between locations (and missing his chances to properly exhaust himself on the last one), he was not only bored out of his mind but also literally itching due to the pent-up energy churning inside him. Which was why he demanded one last shore leave before they plunged into the vast area of unmapped space they were about to enter in pursuit of their target.

"I mean, seriously. They have one movable wormhole. That's no excuse to forgo fixed jump points. It's not like they don't know about them, I heard they have some points close to Nid-something for trading purposes. It's like they don't want any visitors."

The mage snickered while preparing the Downfall for take-off. Bigutar, a little backwater moon orbiting a pretty, yet quite a barren planet in the Delta Leonis system, only had a tiny mining colony, a few bigger forests and a lot of shallow oceans. That also meant that the colony was lacking the necessary facilities to accommodate a ship as big as the Quadrant, which was why they would take the Downfall. Kraglin was helping him with the M-ship, softly ranting about all the hardships they had to go through just to make Peter happy. Both knew from experience that unmapped space was a right pain to travel, as their speed was limited by their engine.

"That's probably because they don't want any visitors", was his cheeky answer, followed by a soft "Ouch!" after which he chose to keep his mouth shut lest he received another whack across the back of his head.

Not even an hour later the whole crew minus Mantis and Rocket, who both had decided to stay on the Quadrant as guards, received permission to land on a large clearing a couple of miles away from the mining colony Sarkan. The air was a bit thin but breathable enough for them, and the forest surrounding the clearing was just dense enough to hide them from curious eyes. The sky was dominated by the reddish-grey glow of the planet, a colour that was dully copied by most of the vegetation of the small moon. Even the soil was more of a dark grey than brown, covered by a meagre dusting of sickly grass and dead leaves. They were quick to set up some chairs, a table and plenty of food and drinks next to the Downfall while Harry stalked the clearing for a good place to work out the annoying itch his unused magic caused inside of him, Groot hot on his heels examining the local flora.

* * *

"I am Groot!" The excited shout was nearly drowned out by Drax' booming laughter. Up in the air, Groot danced between dead branches and several smaller rocks to the movements of Harry's hands, waving madly at his friends far down below and without an ounce of fear visible. They had been on the planet for nearly four hours now, with the blueish sun reaching its peak, and Harry felt comfortable once again. He had worked through his usual exercises, lifting and spinning and breaking various trees and rocks before enjoying lunch with his spectators. The warm tingle of his magic surging up and bending to his will was one of the best feelings he had yet to experience and he had soon given in to the demands of his friends, lifting them up into the air or fashioning items out of the debris that now littered the far end of the clearing. He had even performed what he called his "failed attempt at Sorcery, but with precision, honest!", which was just as potent at blowing up the landscape as his very own blasting hex without the drain on himself.

"So, can you teleport others again, or do you think that you will end up in a coma, like last time?" Kraglin was lounging on his chair, an empty bowl in front of him and a not so empty cup in his hand. He and Yondu, as well as Peter, were already accustomed to the colourful display of Harry's special training and had thoroughly enjoyed the awed faces of the other Guardians.

"Well, I did it with rocks and it worked with them, didn't I?" Harry flicked his wrist and Groot separated from the flying debris towards the table. Wriggling his fingers he let him down quite gently before dispelling his connection to the other flying objects which fell onto the ground. "Though I didn't try with people. Why, Krags, are you offering?"

He threw him his most charming smile, but he had long lost any power of manipulation over the Ravager after misusing it one too many times in the past for his mischief.

"'Course not, but you ought to train it. Could be useful, that one."

"I am Groot. I am Groot?" The small sentient tree was looking up in a hopeful manner, but Gamora was quick to react and snatched him up.

"No, Groot, you better not volunteer for that one."

"I heard Quill talk about the experience. He described it as very awful," Drax pitched in, peeling the wrapping off of another nutrition bar.

"Like getting sucked through a rubber pipe several numbers too small." Yondu nodded sagely.

"You know, you already lived through it, so you could just as well do it again. For the team and all." Peter snickered but went silent real quick when Yondu glared at him.

"I am Groot!"

"No!"

Both Harry's laugh and the goofy mood were cut off sharply when their comms activated and Mantis frantic voice filled their ears. "You need to come back. Rocket says that he has tracked the ship that the Blinder has stolen!"

* * *

 **Words:** 4093


End file.
